City of Dreams
by greenlark
Summary: AU. For Katniss' 18th birthday, her eccentric aunt Effie gave her a special gift to welcome her to adulthood - a pleasure slave boy that was sold newly from District 12.
1. Chapter 1

"Look, Cato's at it again."

At Madge's indication, Katniss turned her head toward the source of the commotion from across the street.

A crowd of boys had gathered around in a circle in front of Cato Jackson's porch. There was just enough gap space between them for Katniss to make out Cato standing in the middle of the circle, and a small girl crouched by his feet.

Her heart sank. Fuck, not again.

"Lick it up," Cato was commanding the girl. He wiggled his foot at her. Katniss couldn't understand what he was doing.

"Yeah, lick it up!" Brutus exclaimed next to Cato, "It's your job to clean up."

Katniss swallowed the bile that began to creep up her throat. She didn't know this little girl, but she remembered the day she saw the girl trudging down the street, stumbling behind Cato while he dragged her forward by a leash. She wasn't supposed to look up at anyone, but her sad, large and lightless brown eyes met Katniss' by accident. The vision had haunted Katniss ever since.

Though this small girl didn't resemble Katniss' sister in appearance, there was something about her mannerisms that reminded Katniss so much of Prim. She couldn't quite put her fingers on it. And of course, Prim didn't look broken like this girl did.

"Ugh," Madge groaned, "They are so disgusting."

Katniss barely registered Madge's words, because she couldn't tear her eyes away from the scene.

The little girl had curled into a small ball as Cato assaulted her. It was obvious that he was getting fed up with her lack of response. He raised his foot to practically the level of her nose.

"Come on!" he demanded.

When she replied by turning her head away, Cato's face contorted. He retracted his foot, before delivering a sharp kick across the girl's face. She recoiled violently, and her cry of pain echoed down the street, filling the neighborhood. Even a few wind chimes by the doors seemed to get jarred by the sound. It positively churned Katniss' guts.

But no neighbors peeked out their heads at the commotion. This was old news to them by now.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, you little cunt?" Cato snarled at the girl, "_I'm _the master here. What the fuck did I buy you for?"

"Come on, Katniss, we should go." Madge tugged at Katniss' arm, "I've had enough of watching."

"No," Katniss protested, before she could stop herself. "He can't do that."

Madge looked at her sadly. "It's his slave. He can do what he wants with her."

Katniss' mouth tightened. She knew Madge was right. Once a slave was bought, they were registered as the owner's sole property.

Stripped of their identity, or even humanity. The owners could kill them if they wanted, and no laws in the Capitol protected them against that. But the owners had the right to defend their properties. A citizen could be arrested, if they tried to steal, hurt or mess with another's slave without permission.

Katniss had grown up with a slave before. That was why she hated the idea of this whole arrangement so much.

She still remembered his name – Gale – although he was always referred to as "boy" by everyone. He was tall – in her childish eyes, he had towered over her, really. She thought he was handsome. She remembered his dark hair, his smoldering grey eyes, and the way he always looked so solemn. There was only one thing she remembered that made him smile. Her singing.

Her parents didn't know about the times her and Gale spent together, hidden away in the small room where he slept – their sanctuary.

Of course, they didn't spend any time together in _that _way. She was still a child, after all, and he wouldn't dare to touch her in that way. But he did something else that was forbidden – he told her about his life back home. In this place called District Twelve, far, far beyond the Capitol. When he told her about his family, she could see the strain in his eyes. Gale missed them so much. He would only light up, when he told her about his hunting trips through this forest, which was beyond the fence that cased District Twelve in.

When news reached Gale that his brother was whipped to death on the square by the Peacekeeper for stealing a turkey, that was the first time Katniss saw him cry. The same night, when he told her desperately that he needed to go home, that he needed to see his mother and sister – she told him to go and promised him that she wouldn't tell a soul. It was foolish and risky, but she couldn't bear to do anything otherwise. Gale snuck out in the middle of the night; she told him the security code to open the side fence. She had even packed food for him - anything from the kitchen that was light and might stay good for awhile, like beef jerky, crackers and small cans of beans.

She hadn't heard anything from him since. After a while, her parents gave up the search. It was amazing how they hadn't persisted in tracking down the boy more.

Even though the incident had been four years ago, she still wondered if he managed to make it to that train station, or reunite with his family. Her parents never got themselves another slave, mostly because she insisted that no one could replace Gale and she didn't want one. And their family didn't really need one, anyway, because almost every chore they needed to do could be completed by a machine.

She almost convinced herself to walk away from Cato and the little girl, knowing there was nothing she could do. But another piercing wail stopped her blood cold. She whipped around to see Cato repeatedly ramming his foot into the tiny girl, while the girl curled into a ball with her twig-like arms thrown over her head in a pathetic attempt to protect herself. His friends cheered him on.

"No," Katniss turned toward them. Blood pounded in her ears like a hammer. "I can't let him do this!"

"Come on, Katniss," Madge said desperately. "Let's go."

"He's gonna _kill_ her!" Katniss burst out. The next thing she knew, her legs were carrying her forward, across the street to the group of roaring and chuckling boys. She heard Madge's pleas from behind her; but adrenaline also pumped inside her, drowning out those pleas. She'd have more room to process rational thoughts later.

"Hey, stop it!" she yelled as she stopped a few feet away from the guys.

They all stilled, before turning toward her. Cato's leg was frozen, hovering in a backward arc as he prepared to kick the girl again. He turned his cold eyes on Katniss.

"What do you want?" he almost sounded amused.

Katniss swallowed. Now that she was here, with a group of very mean, very predatory-looking boys staring at her, she had no idea what she should say. She could get into trouble for this. _Would_ get into trouble.

A whimper escaped the little girl on the ground. Her curls clung to her head, matted with blood, sweat and dirt. Her gray shirt was torn at the back, exposing slivers of skin; the dirty mark of a footprint was distinctly stamped across her back.

"Shut up!" Cato bellowed at his slave. Before Katniss could react, he let his foot fly into the girl once again, connecting with the space beneath her shoulder this time.

"Hey!" Katniss yelled. "Stop it! You're going to kill her!"

Cato merely sneered. He spat at the ground. "So what if I do? What the fuck you gonna do, Everdeen?"

"He's just disciplining his slave," Marvel interjected from beside him, "He has every right to."

Katniss' eyes shot daggers at them. She realized that Madge wasn't by her side right now. She was on her own for this one.

"I… there's nothing I can do." She finally said, "But look at you, Cato. You're a six-foot guy. Here you are, kicking a little girl that's less than half your size." She glanced at the battered girl. "Even if she's your slave, you're kicking a _little girl. _Don't you feel ashamed?"

Cato looked at his friends sullenly. None of them seemed to be able to provide an answer. His eyes twitched.

"She wouldn't do what I asked of her," he grumbled.

She looked at him challengingly. "And what did you ask her to do?"

Cato's eyes narrowed even more. "What are you? A Smoked Mutt lover?"

_Smoked Mutt_ was the term that the Capitol people gave to those who came from the Districts. It originated from seventy-five years ago, when the Districts rebelled against the Capitol.

The uprising failed, and the streets were littered with bodies, blackened and smoking with the residue of the Capitol bombs. The images had originally prompted the term "Smoked Gutter Pigs". Later, it was changed to Smoked Mutts. It caught on as a fitting term, for the District people were dragged into the Capitol to service the citizens like dogs. The term was supposed to remind them of their history, of what had become of their predecessors who were violent dissenters.

Katniss glared at Cato. When she failed to find the proper response, his lips curled with a delighted smirk.

"Careful, Everdeen. If we find out you're a Mutt lover, you'll be hanged and gutted with the rest of them. Don't think your pretty little face can save you from that fate." He said, "Now, get out of here before I have you arrested for intruding on my private business."

Her fists clenched by her side. She wanted to launch at him so badly that every nerve in her body seemed to vibrate.

"Katniss," she heard Madge's voice behind her, and felt her friend's cold hand grasping hers. She was surprised that the other girl was even still here. "Come on, Kat."

She wished she could fight. Tear herself away from Madge. Reach into the circle and take the bruised little girl with her. Anything.

But she knew that wouldn't do any of them a favor in the future. Her logic warred painfully against her instincts. Before she knew it, she was letting herself be dragged away by Madge, taken farther and farther away from the scene.

When she saw Cato spit onto the ground and turn his attention toward the girl once more, she turned away, unable to see any of it anymore as bitter tears filled her eyes.

That night, while Katniss slept, she dreamed of a pair of broken, lifeless brown eyes and Cato's mirthful laughter while he kicked the child whom those eyes belonged to, until the little girl lay still on the ground.

When she woke with a start, she realized that the silky sheet that she lied on was darkened with her own sweat.

"_Capitol, Capitol, the City of Dreams. A land of riches, a fantasy that gleams."_ The children that grew up here had all learned the chant. To Katniss, it was more like a city built on hard labor, blood and nightmares.

* * *

"Happy Birthday again, Kat!"

Katniss smiled, as she gently touched the surface of the laminated ironwood bow that Prim gave her. Her sister was the best. _The _best. She already anticipated the time she can try this out.

"I can't believe you're eighteen now!" Prim sniffs, snapping her out of her trance as she stared at her new bow. "My sister is growing up."

"Hey!" Katniss grinned. She couldn't help it, when it came to Prim. "I'm your elder."

"Okay, fine," Prim said, "You'll get to use that line on me in three months."

"Damn right I will." Katniss said. Her little sister would be turning fifteen in three months.

And today was her eighteenth birthday. Her mother had thrown her an elaborate party earlier, where she insisted that Katniss invited her schoolmates, like her daughter was still thirteen. She wanted Katniss to be "more social".

Yeah, okay.

Katniss didn't talk to that many people at school, and she hated the thought of a party; so she was doing it more to appease her mother. In the end, she ended up inviting Madge, and had Madge bring over some of her friends too, like Delly, Bristel and Thom. Her mother was appeased, so mission was accomplished. Thank god for Madge.

And thankfully, the party was over now, and she was left alone with a living room to clean up and Prim, the one person that she truly didn't mind hanging out with.

Prim opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off abruptly when a musical chime echoed through the house. Their doorbell chime.

They looked at each other. "I wonder who that could be?" Prim said.

"Yeah, did someone forget something here?" Katniss wondered out loud, before shaking her head. "Let's see who it is."

They didn't have to go to the physical door to find out. Instead, Prim pulled out her Home Security device, where the screen is directly linked to their wireless door camera and would show them who was outside. As the device lit up, its screen showed the top of a shock of pink hair, which was instantly recognizable as Aunt Effie's head. And the top of a strange blond head beside her. Effie looked up at the camera and smiled at them, her teeth gleaming behind her lips, which were painted with a fuschia heart shape across the middle.

"What the hell?" Katniss blurted out. She felt wary. "Who is that guy?"

The musical chime resonated again. The sisters shared another look, and Prim sighed.

"Maybe she brought you a stripper," she said.

"Prim!" Katniss exclaimed. The darn things her little sister says.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I meant exotic male dancer." Prim grinned impishly.

"Aunt Effie did not bring me an exotic male dancer!" Katniss protested. Then, she remembered who they were talking about. "Well, at least I don't think she would…"

After another minute of debate and three more chimes from Aunt Effie, each one increasingly impatient, they finally pressed the Unlock button on the device and went to greet Effie. And the new guest.

As Effie breezed in, a blast of cotton candy perfume hit them. Katniss tried not to cough, as her aunt enveloped her in a giant hug; the fur of her coat – she still wore that in May? – chafing against Katniss' neck.

"Happy birthday, my darling, darling girl!" Effie gushed. Katniss tried to smile back. Her aunt was always so excited – there was this bottomless pit of energy which she seemed to feed from; which actually seemed kind of scary. "Oh, and _Prim!"_

"Thank you, Aunt Effie," Katniss said. Then, her eyes darted toward the figure that stood behind Effie the whole time, who remained silent as a stone.

_Oh, no._

That was Katniss' first thought.

The blond head that they saw earlier belonged to a boy indeed. And even though this was the Capitol, he still wasn't dressed in what was deemed the normal attire by any means.

In fact, he was dressed in what looked like a tank top and a pair of tight pants, all made of constricting, black and leathery fabric. And that wasn't even the worst – there was a bow tie around his neck. And she couldn't see his eyes very well, because they were lowered to the ground and fixed there.

She didn't understand. This guy looked like a regular at one of those high-end clubs where some of her more adventurous classmates loved to frequent. She didn't know what those people actually looked like; but she often heard Glimmer bragging about her crazy nights out, and her descriptions of the said dancers, even including what she had them do. Apparently, the clubs often held a mix of dancers, both from the Capitol and the Districts. The District dancers rarely make it to the high-end clubs like the Capitol ones would.

She suddenly had trouble breathing.

"Well, aren't you going to invite us in?" Effie announced with a flourish, making Katniss start. "I have a very, _very_ special present for you, Kat."

Katniss was sure she didn't want this very, _very_ special present.

As the girls led their guests to the living room, Prim asked if Aunt Effie and the boy wanted water or wine. The boy said nothing, and didn't look up either. His silence was actually starting to creep Katniss out.

"Oh, wine for me, please. Ice wine, if you've got it. And water for him." Effie sang out.

Katniss wondered why the boy couldn't reply for himself. Who was he? He wasn't mute, was he?

"So, Kitty Kat," Effie began, once she had her glass of wine in hand. Katniss absolutely despised that term, but her aunt seemed to take such delight in calling her that, like she was a fluffy pet. Freakin' Effie. When Prim gave the water to the boy, he took it and appeared to look up at Prim briefly. Katniss could've sworn she saw Prim faltering. "I was at the annual Adult Entertainment auction earlier."

Katniss' throat felt like sandpaper. She dreaded Effie's next words like she dreaded a train wreck. Prim shouldn't even be here and listening to this. If Effie made the boy dance for them, she was leaving –

"And I got him, all for you." Effie looked affectionately to the boy, who stood next to her in a nearly military pose. "His name is Peeta."

"Pita?" Katniss repeated dubiously.

"No, Peeta. Like, Peeee-tah." Effie stretched out the vowel. Then, she turned to look at the said boy with the bread-sounding name. "This is your new mistress, Peeta."

New… mistress?

The term didn't register with Katniss for a few seconds. Then, her eyes widened with horror, as the realization hit her like a brick to the temple.

How could she have been so dense?

This boy wasn't just a dancer. He was an actual slave.

How could Effie… well, that explained this guy's submissive behavior, which she mistook for him being odd earlier.

"But… why?" she stammered out. Why on Earth would her aunt go and do this? Her stomach was quaking so badly with nerves that she felt like she was going to throw up.

"Why? Kat, I thought you'd like him! He isn't just any slave. He's especially skilled in that area. You know which one I'm talking about."

Katniss' cheeks flamed, and she had to fight the urge to cover Prim's ears. Her sister just looked on with shock.

"I just thought, you turned eighteen. I was your age once; I know what girls your age like. I'm a cool aunt." Effie grinned, like she was sharing something conspiratorial with Katniss. "God, I remember my first pleasure boy. Trust me, _nothing_ gets better than them. And since I'm such a cool aunt, I decided to get you the coolest gift on the day you blossom into a woman!"

"And you… discussed this with my parents?" Katniss asked in a strained voice.

"Well, of course I did!" Effie stated, "To be honest, they didn't take to the idea at first. But then, they remembered how sad you were when you lost your previous slave. They thought maybe this can make it up to you, since they feel bad for having lost Gale before. Also, don't tell your father, but your mother had a pleasure boy too, years before she married your dad. She _knows,_ girl. Her pleasure boy was blond and handsome like this one, but this one's even more good-looking! God, your mom confided in me how much pleasure her boy brought her –"

Katniss gawked at her aunt. She never knew that. And now she did, and that was really unnecessary. She was speechless.

If Effie thought she was warming her niece up to the idea of having this slave, then she failed, because Katniss couldn't feel more repulsed.

Dense as Effie might be, she didn't miss the expression on Katniss' face. Her own fell slightly in response. "What's wrong, my dear? He's clean if that's what you're worried about! He's tested and everything –"

"Look, Auntie, I –" Katniss rubbed a hand over her weary eyes. She tried not to look at Peeta, whom Effie was talking about this _entire time _like he was an inanimate object in the background. He was gorgeous; she would be blind not to recognize that. But the outfit was ridiculous. And she didn't think he looked at her once. His head was still inclined. "I just – I do not want a slave. I don't want to own one."

"What? Don't be ridiculous," Effie waved her hand. "Look at him, Katniss. How can a girl not want him? He is so beautiful, isn't he? Look at those soft blond curls." When Katniss gave no reaction to that, Effie tutted impatiently. "Come! Feel how soft it is!"

"Aunt Effie…" Katniss managed to force out. She could feel Prim's wide eyes on her, and had to resist the urge to tell her sister to go to her room. Prim would not take well to that. "I do not want him. Please take him back where you boug – found him."

Effie's face fell completely. She looked crestfallen. Prim's anxious gaze darted between the two of them.

"You don't want him?" Effie looked at Peeta with a bewildered expression. "But… why not? He's so gorgeous. He can do anything you want him to. Katniss, I just – I just wanted to get you something special this year, something most of your friends don't even get to have. I thought you would like him." When Katniss' expression didn't budge, Effie grew more agitated. "He cost me an arm and a leg, too!"

"Well, can you return him?" Katniss asked, and hated that she was now participating in talking about this boy – Peeta – like he was a merchandise. But she hated the fact that she felt guilty about rejecting Effie's gesture even more. As utterly bonkers as her pink-haired, flamboyant aunt was, she knew Effie wasn't a bad person. Effie was just like almost everyone else in the Capitol. She didn't get to know another slave as a person, like Katniss had the chance to do. She didn't know anything about the Districts, other than that they were dark, scary places crawling with poor people. Effie thought the slaves were lucky to have been brought into the luxurious lifestyle of the Capitol.

And it shouldn't have surprised Katniss that her aunt thought this would have made her happy.

"Well," Effie said heavily, "If you don't really want to accept your present, that's your choice. He'll be taken back to the Castle. I got him there. He won't be short of offers, mind you. I think this awful girl – Clove is her name? – was very keen to make her offer on him."

The breath stopped in Katniss' lungs.

Clove? As in Clove _Barrow?_

It had to be. How many Cloves did she know, especially a terrible one?

No. No no no.

Clove had been her classmate since grade three. She knew Clove well enough to know that girl was bad news. Once, when they were in grade six, a bunch of boys dared Clove to do something crazy. She did, by hurling her lunch knife at a sparrow that hopped on the ground. The hit was precise, and forceful enough to drive the pointy end through the sparrow's head, instantly killing it. It wasn't even that which got to Katniss – it was the look that was on Clove's face afterwards. Instead of looking remorseful, the pinched-face girl was grinning like she won a prize. For a fleeting moment there, she didn't even look humane. The boys looked like they regretted asking Clove.

Another time, during grade eight – Clove made another girl go to the hospital by pulling out her hair in chunks and then breaking her hand. When the students and the teachers heard the victim's cries, they rushed out of the classrooms to find Clove twisting her hand until it almost completely turned on top of her wrist. Clove's eyes held a slightly crazed, distant expression, and even the adults were afraid to approach to stop her.

Even though Katniss didn't know Peeta, she was terrified she'd condemn him to a life under Clove.

"Are – are you sure?" she asked Effie, the tremor in her voice barely perceptible. "That Clove wanted him?"

"Yes, I'm absolutely positive, seeing as I was bidding against that wretched girl." Effie turned up her nose at the thought. "You don't know how close she came to winning over me. I was determined to get him for you, but that girl was persistent too, until the very end. After I won the bidding, she came over to me and said, 'Aren't you too old and wrinkly for him, granny?' The nerve of this awful girl!"

Katniss winced. "I'm sorry, Effie. She is pretty awful, don't listen to a word she says. And… look, I really do appreciate the gesture you made for me." She looked to Prim. In return, her sister arched her eyebrows discreetly, before shifting her gaze toward Peeta's direction. Katniss almost forgot the blond boy was still there. She forced herself to look at him.

For a nanosecond, his eyes darted up, and collided against hers. It was the first time he truly looked at her, and she him.

Her chest seized abruptly. Holy fuck, his eyes were so _blue._

He looked away again, the ground drawing his gaze as if it held a special magnetic force.

For a moment, she imagined Clove as Cato. Mangling Peeta and using him for her twisted pleasure, knowing he had no power to protest or fight back, unless he wanted to be punished or killed.

_Shit. _

She might not want him as her slave. But if she assigned him to an even worse fate, even inadvertently, she couldn't live with herself.

"Okay. Okay, I'll take him." The words tumbled out before she could stop herself. She thought she was still making up her mind about it, but her runaway mouth seemed to have another design.

Effie's eyes lit up. "So you'll accept your present? I knew you won't really resist! You'd be crazy to!"

Katniss swallowed the lump in her throat. Fuck, what had she agreed to? "I… I accept him," she said dazedly.

He looked up at her then. Her chest once again clenched at the piercing shade of his eyes, and her throat bobbed as she swallowed.

She couldn't make her mouth form the shape of a smile, as the weight of his gaze remained on her like a hammer on her chest.

* * *

Please review! As this is my first fic, I'm pretty nervous about it. Your comments and feedback will be greatly appreciated :)

Happy upcoming New Year!


	2. Chapter 2

Hope everyone's had a good New Year! Thank you so much for the incredible response. I'm really glad you like the premise the story. I'm blown away by the reception, wow. Thank you again for your kind words and encouragement.

I originally planned two parts for this chapter. But it was getting too long, so I divided up the parts to write so I can upload this chapter faster. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

"_Have fun, Kitty Kat! Don't be shy, darling girl! It's important to have fun! And don't worry about your parents. You'll be skedaddling along to Panem University in a couple of months, so you can bring him with you there! Oh, your new friends will be so jealous. Don't share him too much!"_

As Katniss put out a new set of sheets and blanket on the mattress she found, Effie's words tossed around in her head like broken music from a record player.

Despite her resolve that she would not use this boy, who was suddenly thrust under her care – the thought of his apparently renowned skills sent an unwelcome thrill through her core.

She knew it wasn't necessary for her to set up this room or this bed for him; Effie would frown if she saw her niece doing this for a slave. But she couldn't just shove a bunch of blankets at him and tell him to go sleep on the floor. Also, she needed some time before she could go back down to the kitchen again, where she had left him – after she told him to get comfortable around here, in a vague and uncomfortable manner. She needed to clear her head before she could interact with the person who was inextricably linked to her from now on.

She didn't know how old Peeta was, but he had the look of an adolescent approaching manhood. His build looked firm – as much as she tried to avoid looking at him, even she couldn't miss the outlines of the muscles of his bare arms. And his jaw, his _eyes…_ for a fleeting moment, she wondered if they would darken as he hovered over her…

_Get a grip of yourself!_

She rubbed a hand over her face. Stupid hormones.

After she finished making up the bed, she stepped back and assessed the room. It was a spare room, but quite spacious too. The walls were painted a waterfall blue, and the large window offered a good view of the orchard behind the house. A marble writing desk and a matching chair also stood in place.

All set.

Katniss took in a deep breath, and stepped out of the room. But she didn't immediately head toward the kitchen. Instead, she took a detour to the bathroom.

Along the way, she could hear music blasting from Prim's room. "Cosmic Girls" was her sister's favorite band at the moment. Katniss had no tolerance for these sickly sweet, bubble gum types of music, and her aggravation was only worsened when she remembered how Prim had pretty much ditched her to deal with the awkwardness after Effie left.

Well, granted, Prim did try to engage Peeta in conversation at first. The conversation basically went like,

"Are you hungry, Peeta?"

"No, miss."

"Did you travel for a long time?"

"No, miss. I arrived from the Castle."

"Oh, right – um, would you like some more water?"

"No, thank you, miss."

His voice held a melodious cadence – it was gruff and masculine at the same time. Katniss couldn't name what exactly made the sound so attractive, but it felt like a warm, rich toffee sliding down her senses. Yet, his reluctance to speak made it difficult to appreciate that voice.

And Prim seemed to get increasingly discomfited, probably due to him addressing her as "miss" at the end of every sentence. Katniss was no help either, because she offered nothing to say to Peeta. So Prim was practically having a one-sided conversation between three people.

In the end, her poor little sister had all but dashed out of the living room with,

"Well, I hope you feel at home, Peeta! Have fun, you two crazy kids! Bye."

And there went Katniss' last salvation.

Now, she stared at her own panicked, wide-eyed reflection in the bathroom mirror. She didn't want to go back down there. She didn't want a fully-grown boy – practically a man – at her command.

He probably hated her already. That was probably why he could barely look at her today, except when she agreed to take him in. He was forced to serve her – this completely strange girl to him – who claimed power over him just by default of birth.

But she didn't choose this, either. She would let him go in a heartbeat, if Effie didn't imply that he would fall to the grasp of Clove, or some equally nefarious hands.

Even after another prolonged moment of staring at her own reflection, she was no closer to finding an answer for how to make this arrangement more comfortable. But she also realized that keeping him waiting in the kitchen forever was probably not the way to start.

Grudgingly, she made her way downstairs. While she passed the living room, she had the feeling that something was amiss. Frowning, she stepped back, and took another look at the place.

She did a double-take.

The living room was _pristine. _All the mess from her party – the gift wrappers, the plastic cups, the half-empty food trays – had all been removed. The tables and chairs were shining, like they had just been wiped. Even this stain upon the wall, which was created by Thom earlier as he splashed his purple beer, was gone.

"Peeta?" she called out. She was almost in shock. "Peeta?"

"I'm here, m'lady," a voice piped up a few feet away from her. She pivoted around, and found herself facing the said boy.

He was still in his quasi-bondage outfit, and his hands were wet.

"What are you doing?" she tried not to stammer. "Did you just clean up this space?" she indicated to the living room.

"I did, mistress," he replied. "You said to make myself busy here, and I wasn't sure what I can do for you yet, so I cleaned up the living room. I hope it's alright with you."

"I – it's alright. Thank you, but you didn't need to… I mean, I told you to make yourself comfortable…" Katniss stammered. She didn't mean anything else by it; she just wanted him to have a seat or something until she finished setting up his room. But apparently, he translated her words to mean something entirely different.

"Well, I am very comfortable." He said, "Thank you, mistress."

Okay, he had to stop calling her that.

"I'm not a 'mistress'," she blurted out, "Don't call me that. Please," she added, to soften her tone.

He blinked, as if her words confused him. "So… how should I address you, mis – I mean, my lady?" he inquired.

For some reason, _'my lady' _wasn't on the same level of awful as 'mistress' to her. But it still made her skittish. Her name was perfectly fine to use.

"I'm Katniss," she said.

"Katniss," he repeated softly, as if to himself. She swallowed lightly. "Lady Katniss, then?"

She shook her head. "Please, just Katniss."

He stared at her for a beat. This time, she was able to meet his cerulean blue eyes without a shiver threatening to wrack her shoulders. Before she could say anything else, however, he inclined his head.

"Very well. If you wish it, Katniss."

She curbed a frustrated sigh. It was one thing to get the name out of the way, but she wished he would talk to her as an acquaintance, like she was just another normal human being. Her skin prickled at the acquiescence he presented to her, was most likely taught to present to her.

"Well, your bedroom is all set up." She stated. She missed the incredulous look on his face, while she glanced at the clock and wondered if she should show him up right now. The clock flashed a virtual image of 9:23. Suddenly, she remembered her nightly routine – to have a mug of hot chocolate one or two hours before bedtime. It was a childhood addiction that carried to this day.

And right now, it seemed perfect for soothing her nerves after this strange day. Just the thought of it was cheering her up.

"I'm going to get some hot chocolate right now," she told him, "Do you want any, Peeta?"

"Hot chocolate?" he looked as if she just offered him an elixir. In fact, his eyes glazed over, as if the words roused some kind of memory for him. She didn't understand why, until he said, "I... don't think I've had that ever since I left home."

"Oh." She said awkwardly. She didn't know why she felt the need to ask, but the next question tumbled out before she could stop it. "Um, how long has it been since you… left home?"

His expression clouded over. "I'm not really sure." He fixed his eyes on a spot over her shoulder, "I lost count after three months."

Katniss nodded painfully. She knew she would be sorry to have asked. "And Effie mentioned you're from District…" her mind drew a blank. She actually couldn't recall her aunt mentioning anything about it. Thankfully, Peeta filled in the silence for her.

"District Twelve."

Something jarred within Katniss.

"Twelve?" she echoed.

"Yes." He looked at her with a bemused expression.

"I… I see." Katniss' heart started to pummel erratically. Her throat was so dry that it took her two seconds to work moisture into it. "Do you know… Gale? Gale Hawthorne?"

Peeta faltered. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, but his next word knocked the breath out of her lungs.

"Yes."

"Is he alive?" the question burst out, but her voice was barely above a whisper. She hoped Peeta understood what she meant. She stared at him pleadingly, as if that would persuade him to give her the answer she wanted.

Peeta watched her, his lips parted slightly. Katniss was sure she was going to pass out from the tension that pressed down against her chest.

"How do you know him?" he asked. Then, he looked contrite instantly. "I didn't mean to question you. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," she said hurriedly. "I just know him, because... he used to be my slave."

Peeta gawked at her. "He was your slave," he said slowly. The comprehension dawned on his face. "I think your aunt mentioned his name too, though I was not entirely sure if I heard right." Astonishment lined his features. "Are you… were you… the one who let him go?"

_Peeta knows. He knows. Gale has to be alive if Peeta knows that,_ she thought frantically.

But she couldn't let it go until she heard the confirmation from his lips. "Yes," she whispered raucously, "And I'd like to know if he made it."

The blonde boy's throat bobbed sharply; the movement of his Adam's apple was prominent under the band that secured his bow tie. The anticipation was nearly killing Katniss.

"He is alive," he said finally. "He is with his family now."

Her knees felt weak. A choked laughter escaped her, and the relief was so indescribable, that tears sprung uncontrollably into her eyes.

"Miss? I mean, Katniss?" Peeta sounded frightened. "I'm sorry, what –"

"I've worried about him for years," she choked out, "Years."

The flash of a smile graced his lips. He exhaled waveringly, his shoulders slumping with the movement. "God almighty," he whispered, before shaking his head.

She didn't understand what he meant. "What happened to him? Was he hurt?" she asked in a rush.

"No, Gale is fine. I was just… really stunned to hear that you are the one who let him go." Peeta offered as an explanation. "He was injured along the way by Peacekeepers before he escaped them and got home. They didn't manage to get his identity or track him down. From what I know, he's doing okay and supporting his family now." He hesitated for a second, before venturing further, "But he can only go out at night, because if any Peacekeeper sees him and knows that he's a fugitive, both he and his family would be dead."

Katniss looked at the floor. She had no idea what to say to that. She knew the level of risk Gale faced when she let him go. She was beyond happy that he was alive and reunited with his family, like he desperately wanted. But her heart ached at the horrible life he had to lead from then on.

Later, while she sat in the kitchen with Peeta, she watched in amazement as he inhaled his hot chocolate in four or five gulps, despite how hot it was. For someone who looked so sturdy, he looked like he hadn't seen food for days.

"Do you want another?" she asked, after he set down his empty mug. "There's plenty more."

"No, but thank you." He murmured. His voice was strangely rough. "You're really kind."

She blushed. For some reason, it felt wrong to be labelled as _kind_ by Peeta. She was part of the group that put him – and Gale, and the little girl, and other nameless people out there – in their position today. She didn't feel kind; she felt ashamed.

When she showed him to his room later, she watched breathlessly as he strode over to his bed and touched the surface, as if he couldn't believe it was real.

"This is for me," it sounded like he was talking to himself.

She nodded, not able to conjure the voice to speak.

After a full minute of staring at everything in his room without a single word, Peeta finally seemed to come to his senses. He ambled back to her. Under the night light, his wide eyes shone an opaque blue, almost bordering on sapphire.

"I also have clothes for you," she said, "They're in the drawers over there. You can get out of the ones you have on now if you want. There's also a bathroom next to this room. Toothbrushes, toothpaste, facial wash and towels are in there. There are shower settings for shampoo and body wash, and you can choose the scent of water you want. I can show you."

He smiled faintly, but it almost looked strained. "Katniss, I don't know what to say."

"It's nothing," she said quietly. She couldn't imagine what condition he might've lived in before. But if he looked this overwhelmed the moment he entered this simple room, she didn't think she wanted to imagine it.

He swallowed. A moment of silence followed. She was just deliberating what else she could tell him, when he asked, the cadence of his voice lowering, "Is there anything you wish for me to do tonight?"

"Wish for you to do?" she repeated. It took a moment of the meaning of his words to register with her. Even if they didn't clue her in, his lowered and husky voice, and the way he leaned forward ever-so-slightly, certainly did.

Her stomach did a strange somersault, as a thrill of energy shot abruptly to her core. The breath got stuck in her throat.

Despite the vehement refusal her mind proposed, her treacherous body was screaming at her to say yes.

At eighteen years old, she had never been with a guy, despite the fact that most of her classmates had "done it" – even Madge. There were guys who hit on her, but she just ignored them and they left her alone eventually. It wasn't that the world of sex didn't pique her curiosity, far from it. But she couldn't stand most of the Capitol guys – they were as arrogant as they were gaudy. She hated their flamboyant clothes and bizarre hairstyles, and the cologne they seemed to bathe in turned her stomach. They tried to flaunt and one-up each other in their riches. Everyone appeared to grow up into the same mold.

So her only experiences with sex so far had been solo. Sometimes, it took a lot to get herself in the zone, because she had next to nothing to base her imagination on. She even tried watching porn, because Madge mentioned it – but all the available porn here was so outlandish; they made her cringe rather than arouse her. She couldn't stand the extreme settings and the fake screams.

But now, Peeta stood in front of her, and he was close enough that she could practically feel the heat radiating from his skin. Her breath quickened and her pulse was skittering.

She didn't understand how the mere thought of being with him could make her feel this way. She didn't even know that much about him. Maybe it was because he looked like a real human being. Maybe it was the way she could lose herself in his eyes, especially when they were this close to her and she could make out the dark outlines of his irises. Maybe it was the entrancing way his lips moved, or the visible ripple of his muscles as his shoulders and biceps shifted.

Whatever it was, she couldn't ignore the rush of anticipation that made her stomach feel bottomless. She knew she should say no, but she was having a hard time remembering why.

"Yes. To please you," his words were quiet and subdued. "You've given me all this. I have never had anything like this in my life, Katniss." He motioned around the room, before turning his gaze to her again. "This is beyond what I hoped for. But I haven't done anything to serve you."

Katniss' throat clogged up. The word "serve" jarred her. It was like someone dumped a bucket of cold water over her.

She couldn't make him serve sex to her. That would mean he did it without a choice, and it would make her feel ugly. Like there was a blight on her conscience which she couldn't erase.

She shook her head. "No, Peeta. I can't… use you that way."

She didn't catch the ensuing expression on his face, because she couldn't bring herself to look at him. The conversation had swivelled into an awful direction. She remembered once again how much she hated Effie for putting her in this situation.

"I don't mind the thought of pleasuring you." He said softly, "You're beautiful."

She was not expecting that. The shock swept her mind blank of everything, and she looked up just in time to see his expression morphing into a contrite one.

"I'm sorry, I stepped out of line." He said in a hoarse voice.

"No, it's okay," she said numbly. "It's fine. Um." She thought she saw the trace of a smile play at his lips, but it flickered out almost just as quickly. Desperate to divert their conversation to a more comfortable territory, she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. "Let me… show you the bathroom. I can help you get settled in."

That night, while Katniss lay awake in her own bed, Peeta's word taunted her consciousness.

They were not out of line, but certainly bold. She couldn't believe he called her beautiful. Did he mean it? Or was that some kind of trick? Did he feel like he had to say that, just because he was compelled to please her?

She hated all the doubts that clamored in her head. In the end, to quiet them, her hand slipped under the covers and into her pajamas. She imagined a mix of things as she worked herself up. As she neared the peak of her excitement, the thought of Peeta surfaced.

She felt a bit guilty for thinking about him like this, like she was using him even now, in the confinement of her own mind. She tried to shift her thoughts toward something else. But the more she tried to resist, the more his blue eyes infiltrated her mind and scattered her wits.

In the end, she surrendered to her urges, and it was the thought of grasping at his soft blonde curls while his delectable looking mouth worked diligently on her clit that drove her over the edge. When her orgasm hit her, she shuddered with the force of it.

She slumped exhaustedly against the bed. Her skin was coated with a light layer of sweat and her pajamas clung to her slightly, but she didn't care because she was utterly, deliciously sated.

As she drifted off to sleep, she tried not to think about the fact that he was just a hallway down from her room, probably thinking about his family, and maybe even some girl back home, whom he had been torn away from.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you for your reviews, favs and alerts! Your feedback means a lot to me. :) You give me the fuel to keep going.

* * *

The familiar ring of "Love to Love You Honey Boo" pierced through the air, followed by a golden beam which directly hit Katniss' closed eyelids.

"Fuckin' Prim," Katniss groaned, as she shielded her eyes from the light. Her damn sister was the one who set up this stupid song as the alarm, and also the goddamn light, as an extra measure to ensure that it was effective in waking her up for school.

Well, it was. And Katniss was having such a wonderful dream too. She could even recall bits and parts of it, and it made her cheeks feel warm. She had a dream that Peeta was in here, in this very room, asking what she wanted for breakfast. He was shirtless too, and his golden curls shone in the cool blue light that basked the room. The dream made her feel so warm and tingly, and she was astonished at the butterflies it induced in her stomach.

Cursing Prim and life in general for having to make her wake up, she trudged to the bathroom and did her morning routine with her eyes half-closed. She looked at herself in the mirror. A sleepy, sullen face stared back at her, and a few loose hairs had managed to escape her haphazardly done braid. Fuck, she'd have to redo it.

By the time she made her way downstairs to the kitchen, her morning crankiness was about to hit the roof. But she stopped, when a strangely enticing scent wafted past her.

Her mother stepped out of the kitchen, a mug of macchiato in hand. Katniss realized her mother had a strange smile in place.

"Morning mom," she said cautiously. Why was her mother smiling like that?

"Oh morning darling." Her mother greeted softly, before her lips twitched and quirked. "I walked into the kitchen this morning to quite the surprise."

"Huh?" Katniss blinked. Her head still felt a bit hazy. "What?"

"Your servant – no, your pleasure boy," her mother replied. Katniss' stomach whooped at the mention of Peeta. "He's in the kitchen right now, making some cheese buns for all of us. I have to say Effie found us a quite talented boy."

"What?" Katniss nearly sputtered in surprise. Without waiting for another response from her mother, she charged into the kitchen, her heart beginning to pound.

Peeta was standing before their oven, prodding at a few buttons while holding onto a pair of mitts with his free hand. He was in a gray T-shirt and a pair of loose fitting pants, and his feet were bare. He looked like an expert while working the oven, considering Katniss wasn't even much acquainted with how it worked.

"Peeta?" she gaped at him. "What are you doing?"

He whipped around to face her. She stood frozen in place, because his eyes looked even more beautiful in the soft morning light.

"Good morning Katniss," he said pleasantly. "I'm making some cheese buns."

"Why?" she blurted. She didn't understand how Peeta thought to do this.

Peeta looked at her like she was strange. "Well, I knocked on your door this morning. You let me in, and I asked what you wanted for breakfast. You said 'cheese buns, lots of cheese buns'."

Her eyes grew comically wide. "I did?" this was terrifying, because she had no recollection of this.

Peeta's eyes shifted, like this conversation was confusing him as well. "Uh, yes, you did. Well, to be fair, you rolled over again to sleep right after that."

"But I thought I was dreaming…" Katniss mumbled, and the breath hitched in her throat. Her cheeks flamed at the admission.

His lips quivered, like they were threatening to break into a smile. But then, his Adam's apple bobbed visibly, and he schooled his features again.

"Well, t-thank you," she stammered as she tried to recover from her embarrassment. "I really do like cheese buns…"

He nodded. "I'm glad you do. It was actually one of the things I used to make back home, so I know how to make it well."

A coldness crept over Katniss. Before she could say anything, however, he already looked remorseful.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to bring up home," he muttered, "It's not my home anymore. This is."

"Peeta…" her brows furrowed as she spoke. "You can say anything you want. I never want you to feel sorry about that, okay? I…" she faltered, and fixed her eyes on the counter. "I know you were taken away from home. This can be your home too, but I know it's not your real one. If I have the power to get you back safely, I would. I would."

She was breathing hard, and her throat was inexplicably tight. She wasn't even aware of him approaching her; until the next thing she knew, he was standing right in front of her. She gave a small gasp, when a pair of large, warm hands gently cupped her cheeks. It completely caught her off-guard. Her wide eyes met his, which were shining too.

"Don't let anyone hear you say that," he said through gritted teeth. "Or you'll get in trouble too."

"I don't care," she whispered, before she could stop herself.

"You don't know what I've seen, Katniss," he said. The forceful, low vibration of his voice travelled through her like a gentle shockwave. "There are not many kind people like you out there. I'm just lucky I was assigned to you. And so was Gale."

She didn't know what to say to that. The breaths escaped her in shaky puffs, and her eyes drifted down to his hands, which were still cupping the lines of her jaw.

He let go of her instantly, like his hands were scalded. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, lowering his gaze. "I shouldn't have touched you. Without your permission."

She forced her vocal cord to work. "It's okay. You didn't do anything… inappropriate," she said gruffly. In fact, she wished his hands were still on her. The callous heat of his palms felt so good against her skin.

Suddenly, the oven emitted three consecutive pings, indicating that the cheese buns were ready. Before they could react to it, Prim's voice echoed down the hallway.

"Hmm, what _is_ that heavenly smell?"

Peeta stepped away from Katniss. He gave her a quick, strained smile, before turning to tend to the oven. She watched as he pressed a button, which automatically opened the oven door. The tray slid out, like it was delivered by invisible hands from inside the oven.

The buns' glazed surfaces were delightfully golden, and the fragrance they emitted was mouth-watering. Prim burst into the kitchen in her pajamas, and her face bloomed with delight as she saw what Peeta held in his hands. But Katniss' throat was clogged, and her stomach churned. Her own appetite had been forgotten.

* * *

Katniss glowered at the virtual projector screen half-heartedly. Today, their teacher was showing them another documentary from the Dark Days, those years when the Districts rebelled against the Capitol, long, long before anybody in this classroom was born.

"Pay attention to the events surrounding the destruction of District Thirteen. Specifically, what strategy did our troops use to combat Thirteen's hovercrafts? What weapons were used that are banned today?" their teacher had 'hinted' to them, "This may be on your test next week. And it may cost a significant chunk of your marks!"

For Katniss, History had to be one of the worst classes ever. Who cares about the names of the weapons that were used? They killed people and shed blood; yet, _their_ names were more significant to remember than the actual people they slaughtered. She was so glad they would be graduating soon, because she couldn't stand this inane bullshit for much longer.

Suddenly, the classroom door slid open. Their teacher sat up in his seat. Everyone's eyes shifted away from the screen and toward the sound.

To Katniss' surprise, their new janitor – everyone called him Mole – peeked inside. His face was ashen and his eyes seemed to be frantically searching for something. When they landed in Cato's direction, his lips curled. He pushed the door farther, despite the teacher's attempt to close it by jabbing at the button that controlled the entrance.

"You!" he spat at Cato. To everyone's bewilderment, he pointed a shaky finger at the said boy. Everyone's eyes darted toward Cato, including Katniss'. She saw that he glared back at Mole with a detached sense of amusement. "You threw – you threw garbage all over the hallway yesterday, and told me to clean it up. Today – today you threw shit – you threw actual pieces of _shit _–" Mole was trembling so badly that he couldn't seem to get another word out.

"Hey, just be glad I didn't throw that at you," Cato said dismissively, "Get out of here, Mole, before we make you eat it or something."

Mole's fists were clenched by his side, and his livid eyes swept away from Cato and across the classroom, which had gone silent.

"You motherfucking – assholes – all you Capitol people are pieces of shit –"

"Okay, he has gotten out of control," the teacher muttered angrily. He jabbed another button, which called for the school security.

Mole looked like he was about to rush into the classroom and seize the teacher by the neck. His eyes were blazing, and his features were twisted into something feral. He looked so frightening that a few students situated closer to the door slid their chairs back in alarm.

But Mole never got the chance to do anything – the security guard arrived with practically the speed of lightning. He grabbed Mole by the arm and twisted it until Mole cried out. Their janitor's frail form was no match against the guard's bulky one.

"Sorry, this District mutt bothering you?" he said gutturally.

"It's alright. Thank you, Cray." The teacher said. He looked obviously relieved.

"Not a problem, sir. I'll take care of it. You won't see this retard's face again." Cray yanked at Mole's arm, and it was harsh enough that Katniss could almost hear a bone crack. Mole was whimpering, his head falling forward. "Sorry for the intrusion. Please go on," Cray announced to the classroom.

As he jerked the defeated janitor away, a collective breath seemed to be released in the classroom. A wake of shouts from the students followed after Mole's retreating form.

"Mutt! _Mutt!"_

"Fuck yeah, Capitol powers!"

"Bomb 'em all!"

"Fuck those District bitches!" Brutus bellowed. "Our dads fucked your moms!" a few shocked and amused titters followed after his exclamation.

"Settle down, class," the teacher chided gently, "No swearing in this classroom."

Bile rose gathered in Katniss' throat. She stood up abruptly, swaying slightly in her spot.

People looked to her. "What's wrong, Ms. Everdeen?" the teacher asked, his brows knitted with concern.

"I'm gonna be sick," she whispered. She really was. It was a struggle just to make herself heard. "Excuse me."

Before the teacher could reply and excuse her, she already got away from her seat and made a beeline for the door. However, before she could reach it, a large hand abruptly grabbed her wrist.

Startled, she looked down to realize it was Cato that grabbed her.

"You're not feeling sorry for them, are you?" he asked her, in a mock-pity voice. "They're not human, you know. They're mutts."

"Let me go," she said in a strained voice.

He gave a small chuckle, and released his grasp. "Mutt lover," he said coldly, and leaned back in his seat.

As Katniss stumbled into the bathroom, she gripped onto the sink and stared at her wan reflection in the luminous mirror. A small noise escaped her throat, and she grasped onto her face as she concentrated on breathing.

But the burning sensation in her chest only got worse, with each passing second. Breathing didn't help. She looked up at the mirror blearily. Her classmates' shouts still rang fresh in her mind, like ghostly echoes that refused to dissipate. She knew Mole was on his way to death, or maybe even a fate worse than death. Everyone knew it, and they all anticipated it.

"_They're not human, you know. They're mutts."_

Her thoughts wandered inadvertently over to Peeta, who had baked her cheese buns this morning and cupped her cheeks with calloused, yet gentle hands. No one would bat an eyelash if someone like Cray twisted and broke his arm too, and sent him to his death. He would be just one of the forgotten bodies topping the pile, most likely after suffering abuse at the hand of his tormentors until he was beyond repair.

Something built inside her chest, bubbling like a volcano. Her knuckles turned white with her grip, and she quickly glanced around her, making sure that no one was around her. When she faced the mirror again, she finally couldn't take it anymore. She let go of a despairing wail; it filled the space and bounced off the walls.

Without thinking about what she was doing, she rammed her fist into the mirror, to dull the pain in her own heart.

But she instantly regretted it. The pain shooting through her hand was instantaneous, and crackled through her skin and bone like fire. She clutched onto her wrist, gasping and whimpering as she watched blood starting to bud from the torn skin of her knuckles. She almost laughed at her own stupidity, but instead, a sob escaped her, followed by another.

Thirty minutes later, she finally dragged herself to the nurse's office. Upon seeing her tear-streaked face and her hand, the current nurse on duty gasped out loud.

"What happened?"

"I… accidentally punched a mirror." Katniss mumbled. She wondered if she could get her hand wrapped up and go home for the rest of the day. The bathroom mirror was cracked, and if another student saw her injured hand, they would surely make the connection.

The nurse looked at her like she had grown two heads. "Alright… um, you don't hear that everyday." She shook her head. "I don't know what is the matter with you, young lady. But we should get that treated right away. Please have a seat inside that room and I'll be with you shortly." She indicated to a patient's room, separated from the main reception area by a frosted glass door.

Katniss nodded wordlessly. After she filed into the room, she plopped down heavily onto the cushiony bed that it offered, careful not to jar her hand. While she waited for the nurse, she glanced up and realized that the TV was on. It was the Panem Today news channel.

Katniss had no interest in anything that was broadcasted from this channel. She almost looked away again. But before she could, the image of giant, toppled fabric machines flickered across the screen.

She frowned, and squinted to make sure that she wasn't seeing wrong.

The scene was tainted with a shade of orange, almost like it was lit up by a fire in the background which the viewers couldn't see. Beneath the images shown, the caption "DISTRICT 8 PRODUCTION BREAKDOWN" shone in red.

A news anchor appeared to be speaking next to the images and the caption, but the sound was muted, and Katniss couldn't catch what he was saying. She had half a mind to search for the remote and turn it up herself. But then, the nurse stepped into the room, a first-aid kit in hand.

"Alright," she said. Then, she saw what Katniss was looking at, and appeared to follow the direction the younger girl's eyes. "Ah," she said, "This just happened last night, apparently. Pretty terrible, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Katniss muttered. She was still staring as the news anchor spoke, his mouth moving and closing. "It is."

"I mean, it's almost winter time. And this will set back the production on our winter gears. What if they run out of stock and we all have to wear what we wore last year?" the nurse bemoaned. "I have already thrown my coat out!"

Katniss looked to the nurse, wondering if she was joking. The nurse's expression said that she wasn't.

For a moment, Katniss wondered what it would be like for the supply could be delayed further this year, so people – like the woman standing in front of her – could experience what it was like to suffer the cold. This woman threw out her coat from _last year._ Gale had once told her that when it gets cold in District Twelve, the people didn't have cotton to stuff their clothing with, so they tried to make do with paper and wood scraps.

"They've repeated this news all morning, and I can't even look at this anymore. It's too depressing," the nurse went on the say. She grabbed the remote from a stand by the bed, and flicked her wrist, switching the channel to an entertainment one instead.

A bronze-haired man popped up on the screen; the channel was switched just in time for them to see him smiling, his white teeth practically dazzling the camera. He was inside a jungle – more specifically, he was under a canopy of trees, teaching a red-faced, breathless girl how to throw her trident at a painted target on one of the trees. As the girl hurled her trident and it embedded itself into the target's outer rings, he leaned in closer to the girl, and all of the viewers could hear as he murmured in a smooth baritone,

"You're doing good, honey."

Katniss recognized the guy, thanks to Madge who pointed out him out in a magazine. Finnick Odair.

"He is so dreamy, isn't he?" the nurse inserted, while she unlocked the box and took out a jar of silver ointment. "I know all you girls like him."

Katniss hissed, when the nurse took her hand and started to apply the ointment to it with a cotton swab. But the sting was gone almost as quickly as it came – in its wake, a cool sensation of relief followed.

"Yeah, sure," she mumbled, in response to the nurse. "He is a dreamboat."

Finnick Odair was something of a rarity. He was one of the few District people who actually made names for themselves in the Capitol.

He had initially reached fame, when he participated in a survival competition show that used to run a few years back. He was hand-picked from District Four by a talent recruiting agency that searched District One, Two and Four for strong, beautiful or brutal fighters. In other words, exciting people that could tantalize the viewers.

Finnick not only survived, but he captivated the audience so much with his radiance and natural sense of charm, he grew a legion of fans from the show. The show stopped running a year later, because it went over budget with its extravagance and was actually losing money, despite all of the viewers that followed it. But Finnick ended up getting his own spinoff show.

Katniss had never tried to watch it, even though Prim followed it religiously. From what she knew, there were twelve participants selected each year. They embarked on all sorts of adventures with Finnick, with the ultimate goal of winning his heart. Of course, these participants were all women, although there were occasionally gay men. The rumors that sparked from the show set always fueled the gossip in the Capitol.

Katniss supposed she had subjected herself to watching the show for the duration of her stay, since there was nothing better to do. While the nurse worked on her hand, she watched these participants bouncing and giggling whenever Finnick was around, clamoring to be the one to spend time with him next. When two women both wanted to go surfing with Finnick, they turned to each other, and the trash-talking that ensued nearly rocked the screen. Finally, they were pulled apart physically. One girl's green wig was knocked off in the process, and she screamed as she touched her head.

Lovely. Katniss wanted to have a word with her sister about getting hooked onto these shows.

"You're all set," the nurse finally told her, setting down the unused gauze. "This cream is fairly potent, so you should be perfectly fine again by tomorrow. But you need to reapply this again tonight, or your hand might scar. I'll get you a sample to use. Now, I hope you won't go around punching mirrors again. You young people are so reckless," she added, shaking her head sorrowfully.

"Thank you," Katniss told the nurse. She usually hated it when people talked down to her like this; but right now, she couldn't be more grateful that the older woman chalked up her moment of insanity to her age.

* * *

When Katniss got home, the house was eerily quiet.

Instead of returning to class, she had left school right after leaving the nurse's office, with the excuse that she was feeling unwell. She only had History left anyway, and she'd almost rather punch the mirror again before going back there.

She wondered where Peeta was. Maybe he was in his room?

As she shuffled past the living room, she heard a faint rustle inside, followed by what sounded like a vague, drawn-out moan.

Instantly, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She stopped in her track, and shifted her gaze warily toward the part of the living room that was visible to her.

Nothing was amiss, even as she stared for a few seconds. She was beginning to wonder if she imagined the sound and should mosey along, when the noise echoed once more. It resembled an incoherent mutter.

What if they had some kind of an intruder?

Her palms started sweating, as she edged closer to the living room entrance. Taking in a deep breath to calm herself, she braced herself and peered inside. For a fleeting moment, she was terrified that something was going to come flying at her.

But instead, she found Peeta asleep on a chair by the desk. At least, she thought he was sleeping. His head was burrowed into the nest of his arms, and his shoulders were twitching every now and then. His hair looked like it was matted to his scalp with sweat.

The breath left her in a soft whoosh. Dammit, he scared her.

Before she could dwell on it, another moan escaped from him. It was a forlorn, chilling sound. To Katniss, it almost formed a word, though she couldn't decipher what he was trying to say.

"Peeta?" she swallowed hard. She approached him carefully. Was he having a nightmare or something?

As she stepped closer to him, every nerve in her body was humming was tension. She was getting scared all over again, and she was nearly ready to bolt at the next sign of provocation from him.

He released a sound, suspicious like a sob. His arms had almost engulfed his head, like he was trying to shield it from whatever it was that haunted him in his mind.

"Dad…" he whispered.

Her steps faltered. She stared at him, her jaw slackened.

"No, dad… Rye, please… why… why won't you say s'mthing? No…"

His fingers twitched and curled on top of the table, his ragged nails digging into its shining surface.

He had to be having a nightmare. She needed to wake him up.

"Peeta," she forced herself to say. It was barely audible, and he gave no reaction to it. "Peeta," she crossed the last bit of distance between them, and gently touched him on the shoulder. He felt clammy against her fingers, even through the shirt he had on. When he moaned something unintelligible again, she started to panic. She gave him a shake. "Peeta!"

He shot up straight with a loud yell. She jumped and nearly yelped herself, when he seized her by the hand she put on his shoulder and glared at her with bloodshot eyes that looked slightly mad.

"You killed Delly!"

It was her wounded hand he had grabbed, and the feeling of his fingers crushing her knuckles made her cry out.

"Stop it!" she pleaded with him. "No, I didn't kill Delly. Who's Delly?"

His grip slackened. The haze seemed to clear from his eyes, and he stared at her mutely for a moment, almost as if she were an apparition.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, and his hand dropped to his lap. "I didn't mean to grab you, Katniss."

Her knuckles were throbbing with a mild sensation of fire tearing through them again, and her heart was racing a hundred miles an hour. She tried to get her bearings again.

"What happened, Peeta?" she managed to ask, though she had a hard time keeping her voice level. "Were you having a nightmare?"

"I… I don't know. I guess." He whispered, wiping a hand over his face. "I… I was taking out the meat to thaw for tonight's dinner. Then I just sat down at this table to wait and I think I fell asleep. I..." he breathed out shakily. "I really didn't mean to grab you. I just had a bad dream and when I woke up, I thought I was still in it. I'm really sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"You were talking about Delly," she said quietly. It sounded like a girl's name. She wondered who Delly was – or at least, used to be, since she was apparently killed. Was she Peeta's girl? "And your dad. And I think you said another name. Rye?"

Peeta looked up at her. "Rye is my brother," he choked out. It almost sounded like a laugh, but the expression in his swollen eyes betrayed him.

She couldn't understand why he looked so sad, when he talked about them. "What happened to them?" she whispered. Were they dead too?

"I don't know," he shrugged half-heartedly, "I haven't seen them since the day I left."

"Oh," she said. He cast his eyes to the floor.

"Do you miss them?" she asked. She almost regretted the words the instant they came out of her mouth. That was dumb. Of course he did. What kind of question was that?

"I do. I just… miss the life I used to lead, I guess. We had a bakery in town," he said.

"Really?" Katniss blurted, "I thought you're a really good baker. I didn't know you did it for a living!"

He smiled wanly. "It's pretty much all I've known in my life. I did everything to help my family get by. It wasn't much, but..." he shrugged again. "Everyone was a fan of our cakes and pastries, even the Peacekeepers. They visited the shop often."

Katniss' lips tightened. She didn't miss the implication behind his words. "Did they come for you?"

He gave a jerky nod, followed by a soft hum. "Apparently, some of them noticed me. I was baking one day, when a bunch of them showed up at my house and told my family they were here for me. Under Thread's orders."

Katniss didn't know who Thread was, but she could deduce the said man's position. Peeta rubbed at his eye with a fist, before glancing up at her.

"My family watched while I was taken away. They said nothing, because the Peacekeepers were pointing guns at them. At least my dad and my brother were looking at me. My mother looked away."

He said it in such a matter-of-fact manner, as if this was a simple fact he had come to accept.

"Well… um." Katniss tried to conjure moisture in her throat. "I'm… sorry. I really am, Peeta."

He shook his head in response to that. "Don't be. You didn't do anything, Katniss."

"Maybe she looked away because she couldn't bear seeing you leave," she ventured hesitantly, "I don't imagine any mother can watch that happening."

He shook his head again. "No," he said softly, "She didn't love me very much."

Katniss' chest seized. "Well then, she has to be crazy," she said vehemently, before she could stop it. Peeta's brows furrowed for a second. "I mean, I don't know your mother. But if she can't love someone like you, then she probably has no love in her heart at all."

"Maybe. I don't know," he whispered. The washed-out smile that was in place had completely vanished. He sounded so sad that it chafed at Katniss' heart.

She knelt down in front of him, and searched for his hands. She just so desperately wanted to provide him some comfort, even if she couldn't give him any real ones. His fingers felt icy and clammy against hers, and he almost looked drunk, because his eyes were so bloodshot and heavily lidded as he looked at her.

"Peeta," she said.

"Yeah?" he murmured.

She swallowed faintly. Her mind was blank of the right thing to say. She always had a way of screwing it up.

"Hey," she said weakly. She hated that she couldn't think of anything else to say. But she didn't know enough about him to give him any comforting words of real substance. It had already been presumptuous enough to call his mother someone with no love in her heart.

But he seemed to understand what she was trying to do. His fingers tightened around her by a fraction.

"Hey," he croaked back.

They might have remained in that position for a minute, or an hour. The world was so silent around them, it felt as if time had grown still.

"Katniss," he finally whispered. He looked down at their interlinked hands.

His eyes widened. He seemed to be seeing her bandages for the first time. As he focused on them, his brows lifted so high that they almost appeared to blend into his hair.

"And what happened to you?" he asked.

That night, Peeta was the one who carefully reapplied the ointment to her hand and re-bandaged it. He treated her hand so gently, as if he was afraid it would break if he grasped it too hard.

Katniss couldn't deny she enjoyed the feeling of someone else fussing over her. No one had ever done it for her, except for Prim and her mother. She looked at Peeta as he concentrated on wrapping the gauze neatly around her knuckles, remaining oblivious to her stare.

When he was finally done and looked up at her, she glanced down at her hand, biting the inside of her cheek to keep her mouth from wincing.

"Is it okay?" he asked. His thumb smoothed over the back of the bandage, almost absent-mindedly.

"Yeah, it's perfect. Thanks," she whispered.

She could sense his eyes on her, but she couldn't bring herself to look up at him. She had held herself up until this point, but her strength had ebbed away. The events of the day had nearly taken everything out of her. If she saw something like gentleness in his face, she didn't think she could bear it. She was afraid she would break down.

"Katniss?" he asked. Damn it, why couldn't he just leave well alone? "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just t-tired," she tried to reassure him, but her voice wobbled on the last word. "I'm sorry, I need to go to bed."

She didn't miss the confounded look on his face, as she stood up and escaped to her room.

When she reached it, she locked the door and stumbled to her bed. She collapsed on top of it, and grabbed the pillow to place it over her head.

She didn't know when the tears started. But once they came, they wouldn't stop. She cried for Mole. She cried for Gale. She cried for the little girl who was slowly dying under Cato. And she cried for Peeta, who had been torn from a family that couldn't save him. He said he was baking when the Peacekeepers came for him. He might even have been still wearing his oven mitts then.

She didn't know why, but the thought made her dissolve into another round of tears.

She almost wished she could hate Peeta, or at least be indifferent toward him. Because it would be so much easier than dealing with the treacherous feelings that stirred painfully in the pit of her guts.

* * *

I'm sorry to leave you here! KP's relationship will progress, I promise. I got plans. Oh yes I do...

Please review and let me know your thoughts!


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you so much for your amazing support of this story! I never imagined it could've received this much attention. When I first wrote it, I thought I'd be lucky if I had five reviews. You are wonderful. Please know how much each and every one of them made me smile, and made my day. I will do my best not to disappoint you guys from here!

Hope you enjoy chapter 4!

* * *

Katniss wandered into the kitchen. Exhaustion lined her features.

Last night, she practically tossed and turned for three hours as she tried to get to sleep. When she finally reached unconsciousness, it was plagued by some kind of a bad dream. Though she couldn't remember what it was about when she woke up, the bad feeling it instilled within her lingered.

To her surprise, Peeta was already standing by the kitchen counter. He was carefully divvying a handful of mixed berries into a bowl. His eyes darted up to her when she entered.

"Morning," he greeted.

She blinked, and rubbed at her sleep-deprived eyes. "Uh… good morning."

"How is your hand?" he asked.

"It's good, the bandages came off this morning," she showed him. He lifted his eyebrows, when he saw there was a not a blemish left on her skin. "You did a really good job on it last night, so thanks. And um, what are you making?"

He smiled a little. "Something for you. I think you might like this. Just give me one second, let me put on the finishing touch."

The fragrant steam from the bowl curled and drifted into the air. She got closer to the counter and peered inside it. It was filled almost to the brim with golden oats, boiled and thickened with milk. A cursive line of syrupy glaze spread across the middle, and the berries Peeta just put had scattered a trail of red and blue across the creamy surface.

"Here," Peeta's voice got closer. He was holding onto a spoon of cinnamon. "Just let me…"

Katniss shifted away while he sprinkled the cinnamon into the bowl. When he was finished, he gave the milky assortment one last stir.

"All set," he put the spoon into the bowl, and pushed it toward her. "Give it a try?"

"Sure," she said, although she was bemused. When she took in a spoonful of the porridge, its flavor – creamy, sweet, lightly spiced and the tartness of the fruit – burst on her tongue like a wonderful concoction.

"Hmm, this is so good," she barely managed to swallow the mouthful before the words escaped her. It was just porridge, but how much care it was made with was evident in the depth of its taste. She certainly couldn't remember the last time porridge tasted this good.

"I saw you had some winterberry syrup, so I put that into it too." Peeta said, "It goes really well with the rest of the ingredients."

"Well, thank you." She cleared her throat in an attempt to get rid of the block in it. "But I feel bad, because you don't have to keep making me breakfast, you know."

"Well, to be honest, I don't mind because I'm so used to doing it. It gives me something to do around the house," he said. "Plus, you seemed a bit upset last night. I figured I should make you something to cheer you up." He looked down at the counter, and a small smile grazed his lips. "My dad used to make this for me and my brother when we were sick or upset."

She stared at the bowl wordlessly. He made her something that his _dad _used to make him?

The gesture felt so incredibly intimate, it struck a nerve within her. She didn't know whether she wanted to melt, or weep for him, because she knew he might never, ever look upon his father's face again.

Instead, she set down the spoon, and crossed over to the other side of the counter where he stood. His eyes widened a fraction as she approached, but he made no move to step back. Their eyes locked together, when she came to a stop before him.

"Why are you so good to me, Peeta?" she whispered, "You're not doing any of this because… you feel like you need to, do you?"

Something flickered across his azure gaze. She couldn't decipher it. But oddly, she thought of a mythical creature, with eyes so blue that they seemed to pierce her soul.

"No," he murmured. He shook his head. "If I feel like I need to, I would simply do what you ask of me. But you never ask anything of me, Katniss. You've treated me with nothing but kindness from the start."

His words moved her. Maybe it was the startling honesty she heard in them.

"I want to treat you the best I can, Peeta." She said solemnly, "But I know it's not enough. You…" her breath suddenly hitched. "I think you deserve so much more than this."

He smiled faintly. There was a strange shine to his eyes, and he let out a quiet huff.

"I think you're the first one to say that to me," he said, followed by a small laugh. It didn't sound like he found it funny, though.

"Well, I think it's true," she said, almost defensively. "You deserve so much more, Peeta." When he swallowed and looked away, she found herself getting nettled. Why couldn't he just agree with her? "Look, you're good with your hands. You're really smart. You're so considerate and gentle. In fact, you're almost too good to be true." The words just came out without restraint. "You can do anything you want, if this goddamn system hadn't put you in chains –"

His head shot up, at the same time she snapped her mouth shut. She gulped back the rest of her words, and gripped the counter to steady herself.

"I… I just hate it," she finished weakly. She cursed the stupid lack of filter between her mouth and her brain. If anyone heard what she said, she didn't want to think of the consequences. Not that anyone would beat down her door and shoot her on the spot. But for so vocally opposing her regime, she would be considered a traitor.

But if Peeta had any thoughts on that, he didn't voice it aloud. Instead, he just looked at her as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Actually, there's one thing that I'm lucky about," he finally said.

She frowned, perplexed by his statement. "What?"

He didn't answer for a moment. The silence would be agonizing, if he didn't look at her so intently, as if nothing else around them could tear his eyes away. He was handsome, so handsome. Even now, her stomach couldn't help but seize feebly with a rush of butterflies.

"You," he uttered.

Her lungs had frozen, but she couldn't bring herself to care about the discomfort as it struggled to take in oxygen. A heady mixture of elation and fear closed up her throat. She was sure she looked at him like he had grown another head.

He breathed out shakily, and ran a hand across his face. "Shit," he said plaintively. "I'm sorry, Katniss." Something akin to distress flashed across his features. "I usually wouldn't say anything like that. But I just have a hard time controlling what I say when I'm around you." He exhaled roughly, and trained his hooded eyes on her. "But I really do think it. I'm lucky that I met you."

Katniss felt like she was about to combust from the pressure that hovered in her chest. She couldn't stand it anymore, when he looked at her like that.

Her brain seemed to shut off, at the same time she reached up shakily, and brushed her fingers over his taut cheek, desperately craving this warm contact and hoping it could appease the ache inside her.

But then, he leaned in closer. She stifled a gasp, when he gently captured her retracting hand, enfolding it within his large one. An unnamed thrill shot down to her abdomen, when his breath drifted over her cheek, smelling warm and intoxicating.

"I'm so lucky," he said thickly.

"Peeta," she pleaded. Her head was spinning like a carousel.

"Will you…" his lips nudged against her overly hot cheek. Katniss couldn't understand why, but the simple contact nearly made her mewl. A shiver wracked her shoulders. His eyes were searching hers fervently. "Let me kiss you?" When she couldn't form a coherent response to that, his tone turned needier. "Please? Katniss."

Her hands flung up and clung onto his shoulders, as if they had a mind of their own. His soft hair shifted against her jaw line, and something inside her contracted and tightened. Her breath was coming out in hot pants, the pads of her fingers digging into his shoulder blades. There was no more space between them now.

"Yes," she burst out, "Yes."

Before she could make another sound, he tilted her head slightly with a gentle, but urgent touch. His thumb danced across her pliant lips, before he melded his own to them.

Katniss' eyes slid shut, and she wasn't sure if she made an embarrassing sound in the back of her throat.

The sensation of his soft mouth plying her own coursed through her like a blissful wave. She had kissed one or two boys before, and it had never felt like this. Peeta didn't try to wrangle her tongue with his. He worried her upper and lower lip between his own, one at a time. If that alone didn't make her knees threaten to buckle, his hands also caressed her while he kissed her – they ran through her hair, stroked the back of her neck, and tugged at her earlobes lightly, waking the sensitive nerves in them.

Katniss wished she could return his fervent touches, but the haze of pleasure engulfed her. It was all she could do to keep standing and hold onto him.

By the time he broke away and started planting small kisses across her cheek and jaw, she was panting and squirming, her face tilted toward the ceiling as her back pressed against the counter. When his lips trailed down her neck and gave her pulse point a gentle suck, it seemed to pulse straight to her groin, and she whimper incoherently.

"Katniss," he moved his mouth up to her ear, and whispered hoarsely into it, "Won't you let me please you?"

"Oh," a small, keening sound escaped her. Her fingers shuffled against his curls, and she ached for his mouth back on her neck. But with a last desperate effort to hold onto her remaining sanity, she stuttered out,

"Peeta… I'd never… never want to use you…"

"Oh, Katniss." The sound of her name stretched out painfully, ending with a choked laugh. "You think I want to kiss you and make you feel good, because I'm letting you use me?" he brushed a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, and his tone turned more tender. "Well, if it's using, then I don't mind being used by you."

She laughed shakily, even as her knees threatened to buckle. "Peeta."

"I like it when you say my name like that," he murmured. His fingers smoothed over her cheek again, and she couldn't stifle her smile, when he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers once more. The kiss this time was just as gentle, if not even softer and slower than last time. She closed her eyes as their lips melded together, again and again.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the kitchen, nearly making both of them jump out of their skin.

"Oww!" Prim's pained voice ensued.

Katniss whipped her head around breathlessly, and found her sister bending down by the cabinet near the kitchen entrance and clutching at her right thigh, her face twisted in a grimace.

"Prim!" she cried.

"Ouch! Can you two give a girl some warning… oww…" Prim moaned, as she half-straightened herself, "When I saw you two, I didn't watch where I was going… I banged my thigh against this edge! It hurts…"

Katniss' cheeks flamed violently. She tried to hastily disentangle herself from an equally red-faced Peeta.

"Are you okay?" she asked in a strained voice, "Do you need me to look at it?"

"No! No, I'm fine," Prim said quickly. With one hand still pressed over her thigh, she moved to hobble out of the kitchen. "Carry on."

Katniss didn't think her cheeks could get any redder, but they were blazing with nearly the temperature of a furnace now. She turned her wide eyes to Peeta, who stared back at her with an equally bewildered look.

"Uh…" he said gruffly. "Well. That was awkward."

"Tell me about it." She groaned, and half-buried her face in her hands. "My sister. Oh god."

"I hope she's okay," he said with a grimace. They both turned silent for a moment, and she fidgeted internally. After a moment, he broke the silence again.

"Do… do you want to carry on?"

The notion was so ludicrous, and she couldn't help but glare at him. But then, she realized he was smiling.

"I'm kidding, Katniss," he said.

Her own mouth twitched uncontrollably in response, and a bizarre sensation pressed deeply into her chest. When he started chuckling, that proved to be her undoing.

She buried her face in his broad shoulder, and her laughter joined his. Her giggles only grew louder, when he wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug.

"That was so awkward," she choked out, between gasps and wheezes. "Prim is never gonna let that go…"

"I know," he attempted to sound contrite, "I'm sorry for the eternal blackmailing I've subjected you to."

"No you're not," Katniss wheezed out.

"Damn," he cursed, "You see through me too quickly."

Still laughing, she tilted her head up, and caught his mouth with hers once again. They kissed and laughed, and he rocked her from side to side, making her laugh even more, until she could barely stand straight.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Katniss knew she was treading on a dangerous territory. But as Peeta held her and the sound of their laughter and kisses mingled in the air, she couldn't remember why she should deny herself this.

* * *

"But I don't want to go!"

"Katniss, we have to go." Her mother said irately, "This is the first year that we're invited to President Snow's party, because your father has been promoted to his position. It would be an insult not to attend."

Katniss glowered at her mother, her arms crossed over her chest stubbornly.

Last night, her father had announced at the table that they were invited to this year's mansion party at the City Circle, courtesy of President Coriolanus Snow. The party was supposed to run from Saturday evening until the break of dawn on Sunday. Prim had looked to her, while her mother seemed delighted.

"Oh, that is wonderful news!"

Katniss said nothing then, but she sorely begged to differ.

Growing up, she had learned all kinds of admirable things about Coriolanus Snow. He was the hero that brought the Districts together to serve the Capitol, after the Dark Days left the country broken and divided. He was the fearless leader, the just ruler who led the city to riches, the one they should look to for wisdom and guidance.

He was the one who signed the bill that legalized slavery, decades ago.

Katniss didn't know much about what a good ruler should or shouldn't do for the sake of their people. But she knew that if he needed to enslave everyone who wasn't like him – like Peeta, or Gale, or the little girl – in order to achieve his goals, then he probably wasn't a very good one.

"Why don't you want to attend?" her mother asked, when she refused to budge. "From what I've heard, the parties are amazing. The food… the music… the fireworks… _the grandeur…"_

"I just…" Katniss rubbed at her arm. "I don't like parties," she said lamely.

Her mother scowled. "Well, you're going, young lady," she said tightly, "And that's final."

Katniss huffed, but she couldn't seem to bring herself to say anything else.

_Fuck._

* * *

On Saturday evening, Katniss found herself standing in front of her bedroom mirror, gazing crossly at the red dress her mother pinned on her.

Thank goodness that at least she refused, when her mother tried to put a palette of makeup on her. She had relented, though, when Prim offered to dab some blush on her cheeks and do up her eyelashes and lips, and also straighten her hair. Katniss was almost embarrassed to admit her fifteen-year-old sister knows how to do these girly things much better than her. By the time Prim had finished, Katniss looked in the mirror and almost sighed in relief. She looked good, and she still looked like herself.

A small knock on the door made her swivel around. She saw Peeta hovering by the entrance.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

"Of course," she said.

When he stepped in, she could feel his eyes raking over her. Her cheeks turned hot, and she glanced at the mirror again, just to make sure that her mascara wasn't smudged or anything.

"Well," his voice piped up behind her. Their eyes met in the mirror, a clash of blue against gray. Though he wasn't touching her, they were standing so close that she was painfully aware of his heat pressed against her back, which was partially bared by the dress. "You look lovely."

"Thank you," she said, and smoothed a hand over her dress nervously. "I hope this dress is alright."

"Oh, it's more than alright on you." He said. Her stomach swooped unevenly, when he leaned down, and pressed a soft kiss to the junction where her neck and shoulder met. "You're adorable."

She gave a scowl at that. "I'm not _adorable," _she argued.

He smiled. "Yes, you are. I don't think you realize how pretty you look, even when you frown or look mad." She faltered at that. "And I like that about you, Katniss."

Her heart started to pummel erratically. A curious warmth stirred in her chest, which spread up through her throat and suffused her already warm cheeks. She gave him a look, hoping it didn't come out as flustered as she felt.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you're flirting with me," she said teasingly.

He gazed back at her in the mirror. His lips were lifted into a smile, almost bordering on a goofy one. He looked so handsome and silly at the same time. She couldn't help but smile back at him.

"No, I'm just honest," he said.

She swallowed lightly. The longer they looked at each other, the more something seemed to shift between them. The smile faded from his expression, turning into something more quiet and somber.

Slowly, she pressed back against him. The soft cotton of his shirt rubbed against her skin as their bodies shifted together, and she bit back a sigh, when his arms came up to loop around her middle.

"You know, it's funny," he said.

"What's funny?"

He wrapped his arms tighter around her, and half-buried his face into the crook of her neck.

"I felt dead inside, the moment they brought me into this city," he said. The heat of his breath and vibration of his voice threatened to make her tremble. "I was a living, breathing shell that complied with whatever they wanted of me. But when I'm with you, I don't feel like I'm dead anymore."

He stopped for a moment, and simply looked at her. She saw something akin to wonder in his eyes.

"You treat me like I'm a human being, Katniss. You make me feel like I'm a man. I feel things, when I'm with you. Things I never thought I could feel again."

Katniss stared at him dazedly, wondering if this was a dream. No one had ever said anything this incredible to her.

"I feel… I feel things too," she whispered. She knew she did, the moment Effie brought him home and she met his eyes for the first time. It only grew stronger, with each of his smile, his laugh, his glance. They left a mark in her, which couldn't be erased.

He breathed out shakily. The breath stuttered in her own throat, when he reached out and brushed her cheek with the familiar heat of his roughened palm.

"If only we met under a different circumstance." His voice had turned low and quiet. "If we had met somewhere like in District Twelve, I would've asked you out by now. I would ask you to go on a date with me. I would make you cheese buns. I would do stupid things, just to hear you laugh everyday."

Her vision misted over uncontrollably. She lowered her head, so he couldn't see her eyes that were rimmed with red.

"Yeah," she managed to say past the lump in her throat, "That would be lovely."

* * *

Colors. Explosions.

Those were the first things Katniss registered, as soon as she stepped through the gate that led to the Presidential palace.

"Ahh," Prim echoed beside her. They almost stopped for a moment, just to take everything in. But their parents ushered them along.

"Come along, girls."

Fluorescent purple lighting washed over them as they walked up the steps of a white polished bridge, where a guard stood by each end on top. Katniss was treading awkwardly in her dress, praying that she didn't trip in it.

"Name?" one of the guards asked, when they reached the top.

"The Everdeens," Katniss' father replied.

The other guard nodded. He took out his monitor system stick, and lightly passed it over each person. Virtual images of their faces popped up in the air, accompanied by their names and station flashing at the bottom. Katniss stared at their own images warily.

"No concealed weapons detected, all clear," guard number one announced.

"Go on," guard number two said, while keeping his eyes straight ahead.

The crowd jostled around them, while they walked down the path that led to the Palace. When they reached the area that circled the Palace's balcony - the waltz-style music, the blaring horns, and the endless chatters flowing around them nearly overwhelmed Katniss. She had a tight grip on Prim's hand, because she was afraid she would lose her little sister among the madness.

A woman suddenly came forward, and grabbed their parents' attention.

"Hello, hello!" she sang out, with a heavy accent. "So good to see you!"

"Hello, Francine." her father said warmly, "Have you met my wife and children?"

While the adults chattered, Katniss glanced around their surrounding, wondering how she was going to make it through the night, drowning in this colorful sea of wigs and empty chatters.

That was when her eyes landed on something that made her stomach lurch. Or rather, someone.

Cato was standing a few feet away from her. There were enough gaps between the crowds for her to see him, talking to a large brunette girl –

Oh crap, it was Clove!

She whipped her head around again, and tried to calm her frantic heart.

Oh shit oh shit _oh shit._

She prayed they didn't see her. There were so many people here tonight; they probably wouldn't run into each other, if she was careful enough.

"Prim," she said tightly, and tugged at her disoriented sister's hand. "Come get some food with me?"

"Sure," Prim said in a dazed voice.

When they ventured into the Palace, the lighting that glinted off the chandeliers dazzled Katniss. They groped and fumbled their way around the people, trying not to knock into any furniture, giant vases or sculptures. When they finally found the banquet hall, the intense aroma was the first thing that assaulted their senses.

"Wow," Prim murmured, as they approached the tables and tables of food and drinks, which were laid out by category on velvet, silken cloth. On the first table, Katniss could make out rows of gourmet soups and salads. There appeared to be nearly a hundred choices in front of them, decked out in rich, vibrant colors.

"Hubba hubba," Prim said, "Come to mama."

Thirty minutes later, Katniss had made her way through the appetizer section. She barely managed to swallow her last bite of the quail wings in orange sauce. She hadn't even gotten to the main course section yet, but she felt like she couldn't eat another bite. If she kept eating, she felt like she'd either throw up or drag herself across the floor by the end of the night. Prim wasn't looking much better, either. She was starting to look green around the gills.

"Can't… do it…" Prim wheezed out to her, "How do these people do it? I don't get it."

Katniss didn't get it either, until a passing waiter tapped her on the shoulder, and offered a tray to her which held these clear fluids in champagne flutes.

"Would you like one, miss?" he asked.

"What is that?" she asked, and took one for both her and Prim.

The waiter gave her a discreet look. "Fluids to help you get rid of the food you ate, miss, so you can enjoy more food options."

"Get rid of the food I ate?" Katniss scowled. Then, her eyes widened. "You mean… make me throw up?"

The waiter nodded.

"Prim!" Katniss nearly yelled, as she saw her sister about to take a sip. "No, no. Let's put that down." She took the glass from Prim's grip, and almost delicately, set both of their glasses on a table nearby. "Let's get out of here."

When they stepped out into the cool night air again, Katniss slumped against one of the posts, and felt Prim's presence next to her.

"That was close," she muttered.

"I can't believe they do that," Prim said, "That is kind of messed up."

"I know," Katniss said faintly.

Suddenly, the lone sound of a trumpet pierced through the air. They looked up, to see the crowd beginning to gravitate toward the place that offered a direct view of the balcony.

When Katniss and Prim managed to get to that same spot, all of the partygoers around them were looking up at the balcony. They followed the same direction of everyone else's eyes. Katniss couldn't see anything on it yet. But by the lights that shone on the railing in a frenzy, and the fanfare music that began to blast into the air, she could tell something was about to happen.

She waited. The music seemed to play on and on, while everyone stared and held their breaths.

"Announcing… President Coriolanus Snow!"

Slowly, a man with paper-white hair in a dark suit stepped into the lights. His figure almost seemed to float into view.

The breath stuttered in Katniss' lungs, as Snow waved at them. A loud, uproarious cheer rifled through the crowd in response.

She had never seen President Snow in the flesh, only on their textbooks, TV and posters. He seemed… much smaller and thinner in real life.

"Hello, my friends," he said. His voice seemed to ricochet across the space and fill every crevice, despite Katniss not seeing any microphones attached to him. And the smile on his face was so benign. "Thank you for joining my festival today. We're here to celebrate another successful year gone by, which could not have been made possible without your hard work and dedication." He lifted the wine glass in his hand. "So, this is my thanks to you."

People raised their own glasses in response. "President Snow!" they called out, the fervent voices disjointed as they echoed together.

"There will be lots of activities tonight, and the food is plenty, so no one has to worry about going home hungry," the President continued to say, with a chuckle. The crowd laughed, as if he had said something particularly funny. "I hope you enjoy yourselves, folks. To another year of peace, prosperity and happiness!"

"_To another year!"_ the crowd responded to him.

Snow smiled. He adjusted the white rose pinned to his lapel, and lifted his glass once again. "Cheers."

As he disappeared from the light, Katniss stayed rooted to her spot, despite the crowd that formed circles around her to chat animatedly about what just happened.

She didn't understand. For a man who put an entire country to slavery and hard labor, Snow didn't look like a threatening man at all. In fact, he looked like he could be the grandfather of someone she knew.

"Well, that was interesting," Prim piped up beside her.

Katniss nodded mutely. Before she could say anything, however, a clamor by the Palace's entrance turned everyone's heads.

A tall, bulky man with a shaved head stepped into view, holding onto a leash. Behind him, a trail of people in costumes emerged.

It took a moment for Katniss to register three things.

First, these people were decorated like _trees. _Their arms, torso and legs were encased with the brown coloring of bark, and intricately weaved leaves glued to everywhere on their bodies. Also, their faces were painted green.

Second, it was not a costume at all – these people were actually almost naked; their bodies were just so heavily slathered with paint and leaves that it was hard to tell from the distance.

And finally – they were guided forward by chains around their wrists, all of which were connected to the leash that the bulky man held onto.

The man walked leisurely down the steps, and the chained people followed after him. Murmurs burst throughout the watchful crowd, sounding both excited and questioning.

"What the hell?" Katniss blurted to Prim. She was aghast.

"I don't know what this world has come to," Prim said with a forced simper.

The man walked, and the painted people trudged, until they reached a clearing that was the centre of where the partygoers had gathered. He came to a stop, and straightened himself.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he announced, among the curious voices that flitted and buzzed. "Your first entertainment tonight – dancers from District Seven! They will perform a very special dance for you tonight. Give it up, for District Seven!"

He flicked his wrist. Instantly, the shackles broke away from the dancers' wrists. He gave them a single nod, and stepped away while they hastily positioned themselves in a circle, bending down by their knees.

A smattering of applause and cheers followed. The waltz-like music died down, and a much more upbeat tune followed in its wake, accompanied by the thundering rhythm of drums.

One of the dancers sprang to his feet. Katniss gawked while he raised his arms into the air and looked up at the sky, his entire front bared to them.

"_On – here – we go!"_ his yell pierced the space.

One by one, the dancers got to their feet, their movements resembling a flower that unfurled. They started to sway their shoulders and hips to the rhythm of the tune, their arms opening up to the sky as if they craved for something from it. The music quieted.

"Oh, sun!" one of the dancers proceeded to cry. It was a woman. "Shine your light on me!"

"Rain, oh, _rain!"_ another followed, a tint of hysteria to his voice. "Nourish me!"

"Oh, storm!" the next sob ensued, as if on cue. "Fearsome storm!"

The music started to pick up again. They danced and swayed in a frenzy, as if they were terrified that the said storm would consume them if they didn't.

"Yeah!" the crowd catcalled and cheered madly. _"Yeah!"_

Katniss looked to Prim instead. She didn't know why, but the display mortified her so much that she couldn't watch anymore. Her sister was still watching, but there was no delight in her wide blue eyes.

But the next thing she knew, a girlish scream pierced the air. It sounded like it came from the dancers, and it didn't sound like part of the routine. Prim's stunned gasp rifled into her ear.

Her head shot up, just in time to see a girl straying from the group and clutching at her face, emitting another terrible scream that chilled Katniss.

"What happened?" she asked Prim frantically.

"That girl!" Prim cried in reply, indicating to their right, "She threw her glass at that dancer!"

Katniss tried to see Prim was pointing at. Everyone around her seemed to be looking in the same direction.

Her eyes ended up on the sight of a livid-looking Clove. Cato was hovering right beside her. The breath stalled in her lungs.

"What are you doing?" one of the partygoers demanded of Clove, "You can't do that!"

"That girl," Clove ground out, her words distinguishable to Katniss, even though they were standing a good distance apart. "That _bitch – _she was giving Cato the fuck-me eyes!"

The said girl had fallen to her knees, her hands still concealing her face; but a streak of redness seeped out from between her fingers. The group had stopped dancing, and one of the boys had fallen beside the injured girl, tears streaking down his painted face.

A wave of fury scalded Katniss' chest, and her fists clenched by her side. She doubted _very much_ that this girl was giving any look of that sort to Cato.

"Plus, of course I can do that," Clove spat indignantly, "What, you're going to arrest me over this bitch mutt?"

The protesting partygoer went silent. Three seconds later, the man who initially led the dancers here reappeared, his dumbfounded gaze sweeping over the scene.

"What happened over here?" he asked, and stomped over to the pair slumped on the ground.

"Ask her," Clove piped up, before anyone else could insert anything. "Ask her if she didn't deserve it. She was giving my boyfriend a disgusting look."

"I – I was _not!"_ the girl wailed out. It was the first time she spoke, since Clove's glass struck her. "I was not. I was not."

The man scowled. He reached down, and pried the girl's hands away from her hands, despite her and the boy's feeble protests. Some of the crowd gasped in shock, when they saw what had become of the girl's face. Blood was dripping from her torn eyelids into her orbs, which were already so red that they couldn't see the white of her eyes.

"I didn't, mister," she pleaded with him, even going as far as trying to hold onto his hand. He shook it off impatiently. "I swear I didn't do anything wrong!"

Clove sneered coldly.

"Do you believe me, or _her?"_ she asked the man. Almost challenging him.

The man's lips tightened. He glanced at Clove, then down at the weeping girl.

"Come on," he barked, and reached down to grab her by the wrist. "You're ruining the party."

"No!" the girl cried, as he lifted her up and half-dragged her across the path. The boy that was with her stretched out his hand, a pained expression twisting his features, but their boss ignored him.

"Keep dancing!" the man bellowed at his dancers, who stood by mutely while the exchange took place. "What the hell are you staring at? Keep dancing!"

The music resumed. The dancers arranged themselves in positions once more, and started to shake and sway, even as the girl's cries echoed down the path and lingered there.

Twenty minutes later, Katniss found herself by the spiked punch bowl, tossing glass after glass of the liquored beverage down her throat. She was on her way to getting drunk, and for the first time in her life, she welcomed it.

"Enjoying the party?"

Katniss whipped around at the sound. Everything in her body seemed to clench, when she found Cato standing in front of her. A small, almost knowing smirk was etched across his face.

"Cato," she forced herself to say.

The sneer didn't leave his face as he stepped forward, until he was hovering nearly inches away from her. Unconsciously, she backed up against the punch table, until the back of her thighs pressed against its edge.

He leaned in even closer. "If you think what Clove did was bad," he murmured, almost softly, as if he were confiding a secret to her, "You don't want to know what I do to my slave, every time a train misses its delivery to the Capitol from her District."

When he backed away again, he smiled at her. She didn't know what expression was on her face right now, but she had to swallow hard, because the urge to throw up the food she'd had earlier nearly overcame her.

"Cheers, Everdeen," he said, and lifted his glass to her. "If I were you, I wouldn't love them so much."

* * *

When Katniss returned home, she didn't go to her room. Instead, she went straight to Peeta's. She was too distraught to even knock before entering.

He was sleeping. But the moment she climbed onto his bed, he seemed to be jostled awake. His half-lidded eyes roved over her.

"Katniss?" he said softly, sounding confused.

She curled herself around his form, and buried her face against the blanket on top of his chest, not daring to make a sound for a moment, for fear that a sob would escape.

"What's wrong?" he sounded more alert now, as he passed a hand down her shoulder. "You're shaking."

"I'll protect you," she choked out, before she could stop herself. She didn't know whether it was a promise, or a desperate plea. "I'll protect you."

"Shh," he murmured in her ear, like he was soothing a small child. "Katniss, what happened? What are you protecting me from?"

She looked up at him, barely able to make out the shape of his face through her bleary eyes. "Peeta…" she said feebly.

By the time she recounted the experience to Peeta and he understood what had happened, his tears had mingled with her own, barely visible in the darkness of the night.

* * *

Updates may be a bit slower from now, because my classes start next week. Between work and class, I will try my best to write whenever my retinas/ brain doesn't feel burned out lol. But fear not, because I definitely plan to go on!

Please review; it's your feedback that keep me going!


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry for the longish wait, but I finally got this chapter done this weekend. And it's a long one. It was a real doozy to finish up!

Thank you for your reviews, favorites and alerts. I loved reading every single one of your lovely comments :)

* * *

"_Listen, you Capitol pigs! You can't take us down! One day, we're coming for you! We're going to –"_

The sound of a Peacekeeper's baton cracking against bone echoed, cutting off the protestor's frantic screams as she tried to charge at the camera.

The TV was showing the live coverage of the riot that had begun in District Seven since the sun set. Not on Panem Today, but on a smaller, more independent channel.

The entire Everdeen family sat in front of it, watching the screen tensely. Prim had a hand over her mouth, and Katniss' fists were clenched to the point that her knuckles were white.

The woman who was hit by the Peacekeeper didn't appear to fall down immediately. Instead, she kept her eyes trained on the camera, even as she wobbled and the blood trickled down her forehead. The screams, the fires and the stomping of the Peacekeepers' boots had merged into a blurred chaos around her, but she kept looking at the camera, as if her eyes could see every viewer who was behind their TVs.

"Fuckers," she spat out.

The camera quickly shifted away from her, but not before the shadow of another baton emerged behind her head.

But before anything else could be displayed, the images on the TV screen fuzzed violently. The coverage abruptly cut off, and a loud beep echoed through the room as the screen turned black. A red caption flickered across the middle.

"MESSAGE – INTERNAL ERROR"

The living room was steeped in silence, while everyone found themselves staring at a black, mute screen.

"This is not good," Katniss' father was shaking his head. He sounded more grave, more troubled than Katniss had ever heard him.

"I'm scared," Prim whispered. The next thing Katniss knew, her sister had crawled over to her. "Hold me, Kat."

Katniss' arms went instinctively around Prim. "Hey," she murmured, and stroked Prim's hair. Goosebumps had crawled over her own arms, while she kept her eyes trained on the silent screen.

"It's okay, girls," her mother told them, even though her face looked paler than usual. "The Peacekeepers will take care of it. They'll keep us safe. These people won't make it to the Capitol."

The next thing they knew, the screen flared to life again. This time, a cheery commercial started playing. Boys and girls in colorful clothing danced and skidded across the screen, bursting into rainbows every time a Fireworks candy hit their tongue. But the jovial music and the chirping of children couldn't erase the screams and the sounds of destruction that were present not more than twenty seconds ago.

Katniss swallowed the thick lump in her throat, and buried her face against Prim's hair, inhaling the sweet scent. She was thankful that her little sister's warmth was keeping her grounded, even though Prim had sought _her_ out for comfort.

Later that night, Katniss jerked awake with a scream stuck in her throat. Her body was covered in cold sweat. She had a dream that it was her in the place of the girl they saw on TV, and when the baton hit her, her world went black like the screen. She didn't feel any pain, but she couldn't see anything – not even her fingers, which she wiggled desperately in front of her face. The feeling of suffocation terrified her.

She pulled the blanket up to her chin, and stared at the ceiling. After ten minutes of being afraid to close her eyes again, she realized that she wasn't going to get any sleep like this.

She got up from the bed, and had to contain her shivers as she made her way out of her room and down the hallway. She had to resist the urge to run, because the hallway was also dark, just like in her dream.

When she entered Peeta's room, she found a boyish lump hidden under the covers. The soft sound of his breathing reached her ears.

"Peeta?" she called out softly. She wasn't sure if he was asleep right now.

The lump stirred at her voice. "Mm?" a noise that was halfway between a sleepy groan and a murmur echoed. A mob of ruffled blond hair emerged as Peeta peeked out from under the covers.

"Katniss?" he sounded curious. She was relieved that at least he didn't sound miffed at her disrupting his sleep.

"I… I'm sorry, I shouldn't disturb you," she said. Her throat felt woollen as she struggled to come up with the words. "But… but… I can't sleep, Peeta."

His features were obscured by the darkness that shrouded them, so she couldn't make out his expression. But he shifted to sit up more, and the shadow of his arm emerged from under the covers.

"Come here," he said.

She went to him without another thought. He lifted the covers as she reached the bed, and almost unceremoniously, she climbed under them.

His heat engulfed her as he closed the blanket over the both of them. Both of them twisted and turned as they tried to adjust to a more comfortable position on the available space.

After they finally settled, Peeta's hand ghosted over her hair, but then it shifted away, as if he were afraid to let it linger there. His eyes were wide, and Katniss could faintly see them rove over her face in the darkness.

"Katniss, what's troubling you tonight?" he asked, breaking the silence. "Is it still… last weekend? At Snow's party?"

"No. I mean, yes, it still bothers me," she muttered, "But I… had a dream. About the riot in District Seven."

Peeta's brows furrowed. "There was a riot in District Seven?" he sounded bewildered.

Katniss realized that Peeta wasn't with them when they saw the TV footage. Yet, the lack of shock in his voice made her pause.

She swallowed, and her gaze flitted to the rise of his Adam's apple.

"Yeah. Some channel broadcasted it today, before it was cut off. It was really bad, Peeta. There was this girl… the Peacekeepers kept hitting her and she was bleeding, but she just kept swearing at the camera… saying they're coming for us…"

Peeta didn't say anything for a moment. The only indication that he heard her was the uptick in his breathing. Finally, the rumbling of a soft sigh echoed from him.

"Are you scared, Katniss?" he asked her.

"Scared?" Katniss repeated. What did he mean? Was she scared for her safety? "I dreamed I was that girl, Peeta," she blurted out. Did he really think she came here tonight, seeking his comfort, because she was terrified of what the rebels might do to her?

He blinked. "You dreamed you were the girl you just told me about?"

"Yeah. And I dreamed that I was being hit by the Peacekeepers' batons, like she was." She admitted, and gave a weak laugh. "And I was just surrounded by this… black nothingness, and I couldn't get out of it."

"Oh, Katniss." He sighed tremulously. "God, come here."

One of his arms reached over her shoulder, and drew her closer to him with a gentleness that made her heart stutter. The scent of his warm skin nearly lulled her into closing her eyes. His mouth brushed by her temple, before leaning closer to her ear.

"Why do you care so much about us?" he asked softly. "You might get yourself into trouble. I don't want that, Katniss."

"I… I won't. And if I do, I don't care," she forced out. "But I want to help you. I care about you. I cared about Gale. Well, I still do." Her voice had risen in volume, and she took in a shaking breath, trying to rein it in. "How can I not? The more I get to be with you guys, the more I realize how wrong the system is for what it's doing. It's…" she struggled for more words to express the rage that burrowed inside her, but all that could follow was, "…it's wrong. It's fucking wrong."

His hold around her tightened. She could feel him exhaling against her hair, and she did close her eyes then, because exhaustion from the events of the night was taking its toll on her.

"Well," he said quietly. She could hear him inhaling sharply, as if he was gearing himself up to make his reply. "Yes, it is wrong. It is hurtful and hateful."

Katniss' lips tightened, and she swallowed the lump that resided in her throat.

"But I recently came across a family that shows me not everything in it is wrong," he continued to say. Her eyes reopened, to find his hooded eyes still trained on her. He reached up, and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "A certain someone who shows me that not everything in it is dark."

She didn't know how to reply to that. She just stared at him mutely, the ache in her throat spreading.

"You know how you said you want to protect me? I want to protect you too." He gave her a small smile. "I know it sounds crazy, because I have no power to do that." He sounded pained. Almost remorseful. "But I want to do everything for you. You're too good in this world."

He pressed a kiss to her forehead; she could feel his lips trembling.

"I knew it, from the moment you told your aunt you didn't want to own me, and then did it because she said Clove might take me instead."

It took her a moment to process the memory he brought up. She shook her head half-heartedly.

"I'm not too good," she whispered, and leaned in further until her cheek rested against the material of his shirt, where his heart pounded underneath the broad span. "I just want to protect those I care about."

He gave a soft hum at that.

"Well, I care about you too," he said. A beat of silence followed. She could sense his eyes on her, even though she could barely look up at him from her position. "You know I'm yours, Katniss."

Something about the statement made her insides jolt. If he had said it more impassively, she might have objected to it. But the adoration in his voice made the breath catch in her throat. It sent an unexpected fissure of pleasure down her spine.

She couldn't bring herself to say anything back, but he didn't seem to expect her to.

"Get some sleep, if you can." He said, and ran a hand across her shoulders, like he was trying to soothe the remaining tension from them, "I'll be here with you all night."

"Okay," she mumbled. Almost like a small child. Her eyelids had drooped completely, and when he ran his fingers through her hair, the light tug at her scalp sent a wave of pleasure through her. The calming sensation proved to be her undoing.

"Good night, Katniss."

"Night, Peeta," she whispered.

His breathing evened out along with hers. His warmth and the clean scent of his skin accompanied her, while she succumbed to the dark, warm lull of sleep.

She didn't dream again for the rest of the night.

* * *

When Katniss rolled over, her eyes flitting open, they found the ripples of muscles in Peeta's bare back.

She blinked hazily. It took her two seconds to remember that she was not in her own bed. Her heart stuttered, as she realized that this was the second night she spent in Peeta's bed.

That was funny – she didn't remember him being shirtless when she climbed in last night.

A lingering drowsiness disoriented her – coupled with the warmth that surrounded her, and a masculine scent that encased the pillow case.

"Peeta?" she muttered.

He gave something that resembled a half-groan, half-murmur in reply. His shoulder blade shifted as he turned slightly toward her direction.

"Katnishmm," he garbled out in one long, drawn-out sound. His arms flung out from under the covers, tensing as he stretched with an appreciative groan.

Watching the muscles that bulked in his biceps with the movement, Katniss suddenly didn't feel asleep anymore. The back of his neck was still visible to her, and she was fascinated by the groove and dips that carved into the muscle between his shoulder blades.

But there was a single scar that extended across the smooth skin above his spine, a thin, white and bumpy line.

Unable to help herself, she reached forward, and traced her fingers across the scar, feeling it protruding slightly from the flesh that surrounded it. His skin felt warm and firm, and the need to feel more of it started a curious stirring in the pit of her stomach.

He seemed to be enjoying her touch. In fact, he even stopped moving as her hand moved over his back.

"What happened here?" she asked quietly, as her thumb reached the end of the scar.

"Nothing." He muttered. She raised an eyebrow at that, even if he couldn't see it. "Just… when I was first brought here, I didn't act the way they wanted me to. They disciplined me to remind me of that."

Katniss' eyebrows furrowed together. "Oh," she choked out. Her heart twinged in pain, and she didn't want to ask about just how they had disciplined him.

She scooted closer to him. Without thinking twice about what she was doing, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the spot where the beginning of his scar met the top of his spine.

A sharp intake of breath came from him. But she couldn't pull away. As her mouth brushed against his skin, the smell of clean sweat and pine played with her senses. It was like the scent on his pillowcase, only stronger.

There was something so primal about it, that sharp tendrils of desire began to curl around her belly, without her intending it.

She traced her lips down his back along the scar, in a series of kisses that started out softly. She tried to tell herself that this was meant to comfort him only, and she should stop soon. But the feel of his firm, hot skin against her lips was intoxicating, spurring her on like a drug.

The sound that rumbled from the back of his throat almost resembled a growl. When she sensed him trying to twist around to face her, she tore herself away. The haze abruptly cleared from her stupor-like state.

Oh, no. What had she done?

But when his eyes bore into hers, she realized that his pupils had dilated darkly, tainting the blue of his irises. He reached up, and ran his fingertips across her cheek, softly tracing her features. She sighed softly at the gesture, relief steeping over her.

It drew a smile from her; she couldn't help it.

He seemed to grow bolder then. He raised his hand and trailed his fingers through her hair. When she couldn't hold back another contented sound at that, his fingers curled around the end of her hair, tugging with a pressure that was just light enough to stimulate the nerves there and send a stream of pleasure through her.

She wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but his breathing had gotten heavier. Hers was, too, as they stared at each other, their faces not more than inches apart. The buzzing between her thighs grew stronger, and the throes of the need to close the distance between them overwhelmed her.

"Peeta," she whispered. _Please, please touch me._

The next thing she knew, his mouth was on hers. He didn't need to ask permission this time. Their lips attacked each other's hungrily, and her arms enclosed around his neck as she drew him closer to her. His chest pressed to hers, and it almost felt scorchingly hot, even through her sleep shirt.

When her hands ran down the broad span of his back, his mouth broke away from hers, and began to trail small kisses down her jaw to her neck. She shivered in excitement, when he licked and suckled at every inch of skin that was exposed to him. Once again, the sensation seemed to pulse straight to the place where an aching, slick heat was gathering between her thighs. She couldn't stop the whimpers of enjoyment that escaped her.

"Katniss," he panted into her skin. When she squirmed against him, she could feel something hard, and unyielding, digging into her thigh. Her insides swooped, when she realized what it was.

She had never known the feeling of an aroused man before. It both exhilarated and scared her.

_What am I doing?_ Her mind screamed. _I said I wouldn't use him. I…_

He exhaled and looked down, seeming to realize that his arousal was pressed into her. Wincing, he murmured,

"Can we try this?"

Before she could ask him what he meant, he gently flipped her onto her side, and adjusted to position himself behind her.

Their hips were no longer touching, and she instantly missed the pressure of him there. She was about to protest, when he pried away the hair that shielded the back of her neck, and began to worry the skin there with his lips and tongue.

The feeling was incredible. Her groan came out strained from how hard she tried to hold it back, and the hollow ache blossomed even more sharply between her thighs. She writhed against him, desperate for the contact of the rest of his body.

"Please, Peeta," she pleaded, no longer caring how wanton she sounded, "I need you. I need to feel you."

The next thing she knew, he scooted closer, until his front was pressed flush against her back. She bit back a contented groan at the warmth. His hand stroked down her arm and her waist, while his frantic lips trailed fire across her flushed skin.

She could feel her nipples tightening and grazing against the inside of her shirt, as his mouth continued its erotic assault on her. His hand was wandering everywhere but the places she wanted them the most.

"Could you… could you please…" she tried to say it. But she couldn't. She was sure her cheeks were bursting into the color of flames.

"Hmm?" he traced his lips across the shell of her ear, before following it with his tongue.

She keened at that, wondering how such a light touch could send this tremendous quiver through her body. When he gently scraped her earlobe between his teeth, the notions of prudence and sanity flew out of the window for her.

She took a hold of his hand, and moved it up until it cupped her aching breast.

"Oh, shit," he whispered hoarsely against her ear.

Katniss couldn't think. When he began to gently massage the flesh from above her shirt, she moaned at the feeling, and her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her neck. It had never felt this good when she touched herself.

Then, his mouth was back on her neck, working on it diligently, while he moved his thumb back and forth across her peak. She gasped and fidgeted against the sensations that assaulted her. When she brushed against the hardness behind the small of her back, it only compounded the delight that had taken control of her body.

Impulsively, she found herself pushing into him, drawing a delicious gasp from him. He pressed back into her, and she welcomed the sensation greedily, praying that he wouldn't pull away again.

Their bodies moved and writhed together, like they've found a haphazard rhythm. As he worked his hand and mouth over her trembling body and pressed his desire into her, she let go of the notion that they were mistress and slave. He was just a boy, and she was a girl, and they needed each other. The raw thirst scraped through her veins, and only he could quench it.

"I… Peeta…" she gasped out.

"Do you want me to…?" he murmured heavily against her ear. She didn't understand what he meant, until his hand slid down her night shirt, almost excruciatingly slowly.

_Oh._

When she didn't stop him, his hand reached inside her pajamas bottom. Her eyes were wide as saucers, and her heart was thudding against her ribs. Her core tightened and tingled in anticipation, as his hand began to slide down her bare skin.

When his fingers traced across her downy hair, the breath hitched in her throat. He stopped, and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Is this okay?" he asked. "Do you want me to continue?"

She nodded jerkily. Her body was thrumming with the nerves and tension running through it.

His fingers resumed their journey below, until they finally slid between her legs. A shudder ripped through her, when they made contact with her silky, wet skin, and leisurely stroked across the place where she ached for his touch the most.

"Holy shit, you're so wet," he said throatily. He dipped his finger to her entrance, gathering more of the arousal that pooled there. She was panting into the air, her eyes fluttered close. He proceeded to slide his fingers upward, and press them against the spot that made her eyes fly open.

"Oh, fuck," she blurted, her head tilting back.

"There we go." There was the hint of a smile in his gruff, heated voice. "So beautiful."

He leaned down, and pressed his lips to the place on her neck where her pulse throbbed. At the same time, the pads of his fingers began to gyrate around her clit in small, even strokes.

"Oh, oh god," Katniss clenched at the sheets as an indescribable relief seized her. She tried to quiet her moans, but his thick, warm fingers felt a million times better than her own. She wasn't prepared for this. The sound of his breathing was getting ragged too, and she fisted his hair as he pressed his face into the crook of her neck, his hot breath wafting across the dewy skin there.

When the rhythm of his strokes quickened, the pleasure bolted through her like lightning, rising sharply to a crescendo. Her thighs began to tremble from the tension in them.

"I'm… I'm gonna come," she choked out, barely believing the response of her own body to his touch. When he responded by rubbing her in firmer and more frantic circles, her back bowed and a scream tore uncontrollably from her throat.

Her body undulated as the waves crested, and crashed through her again and again, making everything in her world go out of focus. He groaned softly in her ear, and kept stroking her as she rode out her orgasm, until the last wave had dissipated, leaving her a sweaty, dazed mass.

She let out a juddering, boneless sigh, and melted back into his arms. His hand retracted from between her thighs, and he kissed her hair, which was now lined with perspiration.

"Peeta," she said dazedly. Exhaustion pressed down on her, and she felt so deliriously sated. There was no room for any other thoughts for a moment.

"Did you like that?" he kissed the place where her ear and jawline met.

She gave a small laugh, and pivoted around to face him. His blue eyes were twinkling with something akin to satisfaction as they gazed back at her.

"I've never felt anything like that in my life," she admitted, her body still humming with the afterglow of her pleasure. She couldn't believe they had just done that together. "It was incredible."

His smile softened, and he brushed a strand of sweaty hair away from her forehead.

A pang of guilt seized Katniss. He had made her feel so amazing, and she just realized that she hadn't done a thing to return the favor yet.

"I want to make you feel good too," she mumbled.

He shook his head slightly. Leaning forward, he planted a small kiss on her lips. "I already feel good," he said.

"But –" she protested.

"Katniss, it's okay. I'm not expecting you to do anything," he said, "I just wanted to do that for you."

Katniss frowned. She didn't want it that way, because it made her feel like she used him. But she didn't know how to say anything else without it being embarrassing.

He saved her the trouble, however. Leaning in, he added in a low voice,

"The visual I just saw alone is enough to get me going." His nose brushed against hers. "I'll think of you while I take care of myself."

Her chest tightened abruptly at his heated words. The weight they carried made the blood begin to boil beneath her skin.

* * *

_Phonk._

Katniss lowered her bow, and gazed at the arrow that implanted itself into the centre of the target with satisfaction.

She was in gym class. Today, their instructor was ill, and the class basically disrupted into chaos three seconds after the substitute came in. The substitute gave up after a couple of attempts to get their attention, and told them that they could do whatever they wanted for the rest of the class.

Some people claimed a corner of the gym for volleyball, where the virtual scorekeeping board projected onto the wall currently flashed 3 – 0. Some others began to throw around glittering Frisbees, which twirled through the air and left trails of sparkles behind. The rest just lounged by the benches, munching on drinks and food and ignoring the activities going on around them.

Katniss, on the other hand, was rejoiced at the chance to use the arrow target board, where it was always empty.

She wiped the sweat from her forehead, and went to retrieve the arrow, because she intended to send the next one into the exact same spot. She was barely aware of the small audience she had drawn, which stood a few feet away from her and anticipated her next move.

When her next arrow made the bull's-eye with a resounding thud, the cheer that erupted around her made her start. She whipped around, and realized that a few of her classmates were there. Madge clapped the loudest of them all.

"That's awesome, Katniss!" she said enthusiastically. Katniss thought Madge was playing Frisbee a moment ago.

She flushed. "Aww, pfft," she tried to wave her friend off.

After the class period was over, Katniss and Madge walked out of the gym together. A group of boys were lounging by the bench. Before the two could make it out of the exit, one of boys directed at Katniss,

"You looked hot with that bow, Everdeen!"

Startled, she looked to the source of the voice. She discovered it was Brutus who shouted it at her. A lopsided smirk stretched his lips.

Her heart galloped unevenly, when she saw Cato sitting beside Brutus. He was staring intently at her.

She turned away, because his stare was giving her the goosebumps. She was desperate to make her way out of here.

"Whatever," she said dismissively. She couldn't figure out if they were being sarcastic or not.

Yep, she was definitely not making friends with any of those boys. The same boys who stood by and cheered on as Cato abused his little girl slave.

After school, Katniss finished with organizing her books in her locker. She closed the door, and pressed her thumb over the security code spot, effectively locking it.

"Everdeen."

She started at the sudden sound of her name. She swivelled her head around, her hand clutching onto her schoolbag. Cato was standing a few feet away from her, his stance wide and looming.

Her insides clenched abruptly, as if a fist had reached inside and grabbed them. Oh, no. What did he want now?

"What do you want?" she forced herself to ask.

He huffed. Her eyes widened in alarm, when he started to advance toward her.

"You know, you think you're pretty cold, don't you?" he asked, almost like a rhetorical question. "What, you still saving all of your love for those slaves?"

When he didn't stop walking toward her, even after the distance between them shrank to less than a foot, her heart started to pummel.

"Okay, Cato, you're getting too close," she lifted her hand to ward him off. Unfortunately, it made contact with his chest in her haste to keep him away. "I mean it. Back off."

His eyes narrowed. "You know what, Everdeen? I bet I can crack this cold exterior of yours." He stated. Then, a smirk started to spread across his lips. "I want to get under your shell."

Katniss stared at him, dumbfounded. Revulsion roiled through her like hot, acidic waves. She couldn't believe it.

"And what would Clove have to say about that?" she finally brought her vocal cords to work. "That you're going to other girls, asking to _get under their shell?"_

He sneered. "Please. It's not like I'm the only one she's seeing."

Katniss scowled. "She seemed pretty _possessive_ about you last time," she said icily.

"Well, I don't blame her." He laughed, as if he had divulged something funny. "But yeah, she was a little feisty that night. We went home after the party, and she worked out a different kind of aggression on me."

Katniss swallowed the bile that gathered below her throat. "Wonderful," she spat out, "So go work out your aggression on her and leave me alone."

"Pfft. Don't get me wrong, I like Clove. I really like her," he said, "But she gives it to me too easily. I'm looking for someone who shows me a little more…" here, he lifted his hand, and traced a stocky finger down her arm. "Resistance."

She jerked away from his touch, because it scalded her. "You… you are disgusting," she shoved at his chest, making him stumble back a step. "Leave me the fuck alone."

"Yes, that's it babe," he whispered, almost like a growl, "Keep resisting me. It turns me on."

Katniss wanted to slap him. He had to be the most shameless, vile and disgusting creature she'd ever met. _He _was the mutt.

"Cato, I swear," she said shakily, "If you don't step away from me right now, I will report you for sexual harassment."

He snorted loudly. "Really, Everdeen?" he lifted his hands. "Chill. I haven't even touched you. Yet," he added, with a dark chuckle.

With the space between them, Katniss was able to slide away from her locker. She stepped away, finally putting a good distance between the two of them. She regretted staying at school late today, because the hallway was practically empty.

"You never will," she said in a strained, quivering voice.

"Oh, really," he asked, cocking an eyebrow. "Maybe not now, Everdeen. But I always get what I want. You're no exception." A shadow passed over his face. His eyes were hard as two pieces of stone. "You're not that special."

* * *

"Peeta, I've been meaning to ask you something."

"What is it?" Peeta asked in reply, looking up from one of the books Katniss had brought for him. He had been immersed in reading, while Katniss tried to focus on her algebra homework. But her mind was a million miles away from the figures across the page.

"Who is Delly?" she asked.

Peeta had never brought Delly up again, ever since that time she woke him up from his nightmare. It troubled her sometimes, because she couldn't help but wonder if Delly used to be Peeta's girlfriend.

Especially now – since their fateful morning together three days ago, Katniss never slept in her own bed again during the night.

Her parents were none the wiser. Prim might have suspected it – she gave Katniss furtive glances, every time Peeta was in their vicinity – but thankfully, she spared her sister any embarrassing questions about what was going on between the two of them. Katniss was not ready to divulge such details to her fifteen-year-old sister, even though Prim probably had a lot more knowledge about sex than _she _did when she was fifteen.

She was grateful for the soundproof walls that were built into the house. Because it was impossible for her to keep quiet, when Peeta touched her.

"Delly?" he echoed. She looked up, to see his eyes tightening with pain. She wondered if she was dumb to ask him such a question. But she asked it, nonetheless, and there was no way to take it back.

"Yeah," she forged ahead, "It's just… you mentioned her, that time. I don't mean to bring up a bad memory, but I just wanted to know who she was." When he swallowed, and glanced down at the book, she winced internally at her lack of filter. "I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to."

"It's okay. I don't mind," he said quietly. His shoulders wracked, as a heavy sigh escaped him. "She was my childhood friend. We pretty much grew up together."

Something seemed to stab her guts at that.

"Were you… together?" she asked hesitantly, even though she dreaded the answer. Because if Delly was… how could she compete with a ghost that lives on in Peeta's head?

Peeta shook his head. "No, we were never together that way," he said. Katniss didn't know if she should hate the relief that caved in her chest. "Everybody thought we'd end up getting married. We were both from similar families, and we have been friends since we were children… but I don't know. I couldn't develop any romantic interest in her. But I cared for her a lot. I loved her like she's my family."

"Okay," she nodded jerkily. She wondered if she should ask Peeta how Delly had died. But it was obvious that the pain was still a fresh wound for him. It would be cruel to ask him to recount such a memory to her.

Instead, she blurted out the next thing that came to her mind, which she had also been wondering.

"Are you happy here, Peeta?"

He looked at her with wide eyes. "What?"

A mortified heat crept up her cheeks. Why was she prone to ask the least thought-out questions?

"I know it's a stupid thing to ask," she struggled to explain herself. "You're here in this city as a captive. But… I don't want you to feel like you're my slave, Peeta. Not ever. You never ask for anything, and you're always stuck in this house. I just…" she looked at him plaintively. "I want to make you happy. You need to tell me how to do that. What did you enjoy doing? Before you came to the Capitol?"

The corners of his eyes softened. He put down his book, and turned his torso toward her.

"I am happy, Katniss," he said, "You gave me more than what I could've asked for."

"Peeta…" she gave a small laugh. "Come on. You deserve more than just food and a bed to sleep on. They're necessities. Tell me what you like to do, outside of that. Please."

He seemed to contemplate that. "I enjoy kissing you," he declared, and an impish grin tilted his lips as his eyes flickered over to the bed. "And I especially liked what's been happening there for the past few days."

Her face sweltered with heat. She had to resist the urge to bury her face into her arms.

"Peeetaaaa…" she whined.

He chuckled. "What? I did! A lot." When she gave him a half-hearted glower, he relented. "Okay, fine. You're asking me what I enjoyed doing before I came to the Capitol." His expression grew more pensive, and he stared at his hands, which were clasped in front of him. His elbows dangled on his propped up knees.

"I liked to draw." He confessed. "I did drawings and paintings, every now and then. My mother even sold some of them, to the few people who had the money to pay for it."

Katniss blinked. "Oh," she said. She was surprised by that – she knew he was really good with his hands – in more ways than one – but his inclination to art was new to her. She was almost mad at herself for not asking sooner.

"Maybe…" he ventured, and his eyes flitted to hers. Almost as if he were nervous she'd reject what he wanted to ask. "Maybe I could have a set of charcoal pencils? And some paper?"

Her heart broke a little at that. He didn't need to look so anxious, when he was just asking her for pencils and paper.

"Peeta, you can have more than just a set of charcoal pencils," she said. Then, an idea popped into her head. "You know, there's this huge art store across the city. It's got absolutely _everything _in there. My friend Madge and I went there a few times. Why don't we go there?"

"We?" Peeta asked. "As in… you and me?"

She nodded fervently. "Yeah. I mean, I don't do a whole lot of art, so I have no idea what you like to work with. If we go together, you can pick out the things you want."

She could see his Adam's apple bobbing. His features were taut.

"Katniss, I can't," he said, "It will be too much."

"No, it won't," she returned, "It's just art supplies. We should really go, Peeta. Surely you want to get out of the house by this point?"

His mouth opened, but it shut again without another word. He seemed to debate with himself on how to answer her question, even though his posture already betrayed his answer.

"Come on, let's do it, Peeta," she persuaded. A sense of excitement overtook her, at the prospect of introducing him to a whole new experience in this city. "In fact, no ifs or buts about it."

He glanced at her. His lips were twitching with amusement. "So I guess I don't have a choice, do I?" he asked teasingly. But the hope that colored his tone was undeniable.

"Nope, you don't," she quipped back, and grinned. "It'll be a lot of fun."

"Well," he said gruffly. The smile faded from his lips, and his thumbs fiddled together. "I… thank you, Katniss. Um, I…" his voice grew hoarse, and he cleared his throat. "You're so good to me. And this… I can't tell you how much this means to me."

* * *

"This is the apple tree in my backyard. And there's the pig sty to the left."

"Wow," Katniss murmured, as she traced her fingers across the smooth texture of the painted lines.

Peeta had created a picture of the place he said he lived at back in District Twelve. The painting looked incredible; she was awed by its realism. The details were captured down to the fine lines streaking along the concrete walls of his house, and the tree leaves that scattered in random directions from the wind. But she was also struck by the grayness that casted over everything, compared to all the colorful things she was used to in the Capitol.

Last Saturday, they travelled across the city to the art store together. She knew there was nothing wrong with taking a slave out and about; but before they went, as a safety measure, she had provided him with Capitol-styled jacket and pants, which she snuck from her father. People might start asking questions if they realized what their status truly was. The more they blended in, the better.

She remembered the discomfort that infused him as he shifted in his clothing, while they walked down the street to the subway station. She felt bad, and wanted to ask him if he wished to follow through with it. But his discomfort seemed to be forgotten, the moment they stepped into the subway station, the radiant lighting washing over them in the vast space.

His eyes were wide the entire time, while they took the escalator down to their platform, and waited for their train to arrive. His eyes drifted in every direction, and she could tell how much he was trying to restrain himself from fully swinging his head around to get a better view of his surroundings.

"I've never been one of these before," he had whispered, when a musical chime pinged through the air and indicated the impending arrival of their train. "Well, I've only been on a train once. It wasn't nearly as nice as this."

But if he had been impressed with their subway system, that didn't nearly compare to the way his eyes bugged out, the moment they stepped through the automated doors of the art store. The view ahead of them – the rows and rows of art and craft supplies, flowers and fabrics – nearly made Katniss go dizzy every time she stepped in here. She couldn't imagine how it felt for Peeta.

They ended up spending about three hours at the store, and they didn't even get much further past the rows that contained painting supplies. Peeta almost looked at everything with an air of disbelief – the vast collection of brushes lining up in ivory display cases, the hundreds of assortments of paint tubes dangling on the wall, and the palette knives which blades formed almost every shape imaginable. Even the rows of varnish and lacquer stretched on.

He kept looking at everything, and moving on. She actually had to put her foot down and get him to take some stuff, because otherwise this trip would have been entirely wasted. He seemed reticent to do it, but she just crossed her arms and glowered at him, until he gave in.

In the end, they came home with a big bag of stuff. He had enough material to paint and sketch for the next few months. She was exhausted, but the way his eyes shone as he looked at his supplies more than made up for it.

And since then, he had been painting whenever he could. Now, they were sitting side by side on his bed, and he was showing her the pictures he had completed so far. The image of his backyard was one of them.

He said his mother had sold his paintings before. From looking at them, she knew without a doubt that people here would pay big bucks for his talent.

"And the next one," he piped up, drawing her attention to him. "Um. It's kind of my favorite one."

"Oh, yeah?" she asked. He nodded mutely, and reached over to pull open the drawer of his bedside stand. He fumbled until he pulled out the picture that he was looking for.

"Here," he murmured, and handed the painting to her. She took it happily, and her eyes roved over what he had drawn.

The smile froze on her lips.

There was a girl in the picture, dressed in an earthy green tank top. Only her head and torso were visible. She was lying on a pillow, and her hair streamed across its surface in a loose, inky braid. Her olive cheeks were flushed with a shade of pink, and her eyes – gray ones – almost jumped off the page with the sparkle of life that was painted into them.

Katniss touched the braid dangling from her shoulder self-consciously. An indescribable emotion sweltered inside her. For a moment, she couldn't bring herself to speak.

Peeta was watching her tensely, as if he were gauging her reaction.

"Is – is that me?" she stuttered out.

He nodded. "Do you like it?" he asked, in a tone that bordered nervous.

"Yes. It's amazing. I –" Katniss didn't understand. The girl in the picture was obviously her, but it couldn't be _her. _That girl looked so pretty. Beautiful, even. Katniss was positive this was not what she saw in the mirrors everyday.

"You really see me like this?" she whispered.

"Yes," he said. The octave of his voice had lowered, turning into something more tender. "This image of you is pretty much printed in my mind. You always look like this, when we're together."

The breath faltered in her throat, and then began to quicken.

She looked up at him then.

* * *

Peeta was kissing down her belly, his hands loosening and tugging at her sleep pants.

Katniss was panting toward the ceiling, her bare torso jerking with the movement. Her fingers wandered aimlessly through his curls. She was already soaked between her legs, from him sucking on her neck and her nipples.

When he pulled her pants – along with her panties – down her ankles, she shivered with trepidation. It wasn't as if Peeta hadn't seen her down there already. But this was the first time she was so utterly exposed to his eyes.

He leaned forward, and positioned his upper body between her legs. When he locked his gaze on the junction of her thighs, she swallowed heavily, and fought against every instinct to cover herself up, despite the hungry heat that darkened his eyes as he stared at her.

When he lowered his head and dropped a kiss to her inner thigh, the ticklish sensation made her squeak.

"Peeta, you don't have to," she choked out. She was almost going to die from the embarrassment that suffused her.

"Oh, I want to," he said gutturally. "I really want to. You're pink and soft and wet. You're perfect."

Before the vibration of his voice even faded from her skin, he shifted his head, and kissed her right on her aching clit. Her body jerked as the delicate sensation pulsated up the small of her back.

The next thing she knew, he brushed the tip of his tongue across the same spot.

"Oh," a small whimper tore from her.

When he licked her again, she grasped onto his hair, frantically trying to be mindful not to pull too hard as the delicious pleasure began to bud, spreading from spot where his tongue teased to her lower abdomen.

This was the first time she had a boy's tongue between her legs. Just the realization of it was surreal.

"Hmm," he hummed softly. She lifted her head dazedly, and realized that he was peering up at her. The dark heat that smoldered his blue irises made her moan and close her eyes once more. Her small fingers clutched at his golden curls, and she shifted her hips, trying to get even closer to his mouth.

He kept stroking his tongue over her swollen bud. The feeling was devastating, and she wondered if she might come already if he kept that up. But then, she felt him move his mouth down to her opening, tasting the wetness that's seeping from her there before circling it with one finger.

"Oh fuck," she whispered. She wanted to be stroked from the inside. The need clawed at her.

He didn't tease her for long. Slowly, he pushed one finger in. She groaned and arched her back. Her body wracked with a tremor, when he began to plant gentle kisses over her inner thigh; the ticklish sensation of his lips, compounded with bliss they induced, was confusing.

"Peeta," she begged through the delicious torture. She wasn't good at voicing aloud what she wanted in the first place, and she really didn't have the capacity to put together a coherent sentence right now.

But he seemed to understand. She lifted her head to watch as he set his mouth on her once more, his eyes closing as he concentrated on the task. When he began to rotate his finger inside her and use his tongue on her at the same time, the sensation ricocheted through her. A choked sound escaped her, followed by a broken string of whimpers bursting from her raw throat, every time his tongue made a circle around the place where she needed pressure.

But then, he did something that she didn't expect – extracting his finger from her, he grabbed onto both of her thighs and pushed them back, the motion half lifting her legs into the air. When he put his mouth back on her eagerly, the ravenous motions of his tongue made colors burst behind her eyes. The position spurred on an intense pleasure that seized her abdomen and every fibre of her being.

"_Peeta,"_ she wailed. The pleasure was coming too quickly.

He paused for a second to give her a gentle suck; her back bowed off the bed as she heard the sound of him swallowing her arousal, as if he were drinking her in. That only spiked the aching desire, which spread from her chest to the tips of her toes. When he set his tongue on her clit once more and stroked it hard and fast, a ragged scream tore from her throat.

Her head arched back as the first wave of ecstasy hit her without warning.

Before she could even let him know that she was coming, her body was already convulsing and shattering to pieces, vibrating with the force of the contractions that unravelled and throbbed through her.

"Oh! _Fuck,"_ she keened and nearly thrashed, her fingers grasping onto his hair in her desperation for something to hold onto. Her hips writhed in jerky, frantic motions as the euphoria crashed through her, and the way he kept his tongue pressed against her made her back arch off the bed and her fingers dig into his scalp.

Even after the last wave rolled through her, her body continued to be wracked by small tremors. She slumped against the bed, completed dazed and trying to get her bearing again. He moved up the length of her body, kissing her hipbone, her stomach, the valley between her breasts and her neck. When his face was level with hers, she threw her arms around his neck, and drew him to her.

"Oh, Peeta," she whispered brokenly, holding onto him and shivering. "Peeta."

* * *

"Good evening, ma'am. Sir."

The streetcar driver greeted Katniss and Peeta, after they stepped on. Katniss deposited a few coins into the slot, and it lit up with a soft ping. The driver nodded at them.

They made their way across the nearly empty rows of seat, before picking a set near the back. Peeta insisted on letting her have the window seat.

"Huh, I've never been a sir," he commented as they sat down. "I think these clothes are taking to me too much."

She grinned. "That's right. You're Sir Peeta McCapitolite Mellark now," she quipped.

He shuddered. "Uh. The horror."

They settled back more comfortably, and started to discuss the movie they just saw. It was a 3D one, about an alien planet with blue-skinned inhabitants. It was the first movie that Peeta had seen, and Katniss was glad she had taken him to see it. He had her hand in his while they watched it, and every time something seemed to jump out of the screen at them, she swore she could feel his grip twitch.

"So I kind of felt bad for that alien dude," he noted, "What right did the human have to come to his planet and just take away the love of his life?"

"Pfft. The humans always win. Don't you know?" she grinned, "Plus, I don't blame her. That human dude was hot."

He gave her the side-eye, and cleared his throat. "I think you use the term 'hot' loosely," he said.

She choked back a giggle at that. He was so funny when he sounded jealous.

The streetcar stopped at the next station. Katniss looked up, just in time to a group of particularly noisy people filing onto the car.

She curbed a sigh. Their rowdiness wasn't surprising – since it was Saturday, it was common for people to use public transportation to go bar or club-hopping in the city.

But when her eyes zeroed in on the first girl that appeared, her throat tightened abruptly in surprise.

It was Glimmer, and a group of people followed after her. Katniss didn't need to look to know who might be included in that group.

Her heart sank into the pit of her guts. Of all the times and the streetcars that were available, why did they have to come onto hers?

"I'm gonna get drunk, gonna get fucked _uppp,"_ Glimmer was singing as she sashayed down the aisle, her arms lifting into the air and her ass bumping to a nonexistent beat. She was covered in nothing but a glittering tank top and a tiny black skirt, and her fake blue eyelashes were half falling off of one eye.

"Shut up Glim, you're already fucked up," Marvel retorted from behind her. "How many fucking lime shooters have you had tonight?"

"You know what Marv? Fuck you!" Glimmer shot her middle finger at him. But the effect was ruined, when she started to sway in her spot. "WHOA!"

"Fucking hell, woman," Marvel leaned forward to steady her, "We're not even at the bar yet. Contain yourself, would you?"

"Contain myself?" Glimmer guffawed, and looked behind her. "Tell that to Clove! And Cato! He can barely walk, look at him."

At the sound of Cato and Clove's names, Katniss' blood turned into ice in her veins. Her fists clenched in her lap, and she couldn't help but wonder if this was some kind of a nightmare.

With great difficulty, she turned to Peeta, who was watching the rowdy group with a bemused look.

"Don't look now," she murmured in his ear, "But two of those people over there were at Snow's party. The same ones I told you about."

His eyes widened in understanding. "You mean… the girl who threw that glass? And the guy who told you he punishes his slave for missed train deliveries?"

She closed her eyes briefly, and swallowed the lump of fear in her throat. "Yeah. And the girl was the one who wanted to buy you. Clove."

Peeta said nothing in return. But his face had paled.

They were sitting near the back of the streetcar, but they weren't far away enough to escape the notice of the group. When Glimmer turned sharply, and her drunken stare found Katniss, the latter girl tried to look away. But it was too late.

"_Katniss Everdeen!"_ Glimmer screeched, and began to stomp hastily toward her. "Heyyy! What's _up!"_

Choking back all of the dread that gathered in her chest, Katniss forced herself to lift a hand. "Hey."

"Hey guys,_" _Glimmer hollered to her friends, "Let's go sit where Katniss and that random hot guy are!"

The next thing Katniss and Peeta knew, the group that trailed after Glimmer had filed around them. There was Marvel. Brutus. Clove, whose expression didn't budge when she saw Katniss. And lastly, a red-faced, smirking Cato.

Katniss wasn't sure what expression was on her face right now. But her insides were straining and quivering, and she had the urge to grab Peeta by the hand and pull them off the streetcar, the fact that it was still moving be damned.

"Hey, who's this?" Glimmer demanded, and sat down in the seat across from Peeta's. She gave him a coy look from underneath her lashes, and it almost looked funny, because one set of them still half-dangled from her eyelid. "Don't think I've ever met _you_ before. You're pretty hot."

When he didn't answer her, her lips turned downward in displeasure.

"Katniss, who _is he?"_ she whined. "Goddamn it, someone answer me. Have you guys turned mute?"

Katniss gritted her teeth. She was trying hard to bite back the urge to tell Glimmer to fuck off. But Clove's next words made the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

"Wait. I recognize him."

Peeta looked at Clove. His lips were thinned into a tight line, and there was almost a defiant look in his eyes.

"He was a slave up for auction at the Palace," Clove said, and her gaze roved up and down Peeta. "Wow, you've even dressed him up. What, you think that can fool anybody?" Her eyes narrowed with her sneer. "I've had my eyes set on this boy at the auction, but this old woman stole him from under me. Was that woman related to you, Katniss?"

A fury burrowed its way into Katniss' bones. "It's none of your business," she ground out.

"Oh. Ho, ho," Cato crowed. "Is that fucking so? But wait," he turned to Clove, a scowl marring his brow. "You didn't tell me you wanted a slave."

"Hey, relax." She looked up at him. "I was going to buy him to share between the two of us. I would let you have a go at him too, if you wanted."

Katniss felt like she was going to throw up. Without thinking, she reached up with a badly shaking hand, and jerked the string that notified the driver of her intention to stop the streetcar. It slowed to a stop at the next street.

"Come on, Peeta, let's take the next car," she reached for his hand, and gripped it tightly in her own. She could feel the icy layer of sweat that covered his usually warm palm. "Let's get off."

As they got out of their seats and made their way toward the exit, the sound of catcalls surrounded them.

"Mutt lover!"

"Dirty traitor!"

"Katniss, you know what?" Glimmer shouted after them. When Katniss glanced back, despite knowing that she shouldn't, she realized the blonde had her eyes fixed on Peeta. "I wanna find me a hot slave to dance with tonight," she cooed, "None of those Capitol dancers. The slaves get _reallll dirtyyyy_ with you,"

The door opened for them, and they stepped down into the cool night air. Their surroundings almost looked completely deserted.

Without saying a word, Katniss started to pull them as far away from the streetcar as possible, her eyes shining with tears of fury.

"Katniss," he called out, as he was being dragged by her. "Wait –"

She whipped around, and faced him with a blazing, vehement look. He faltered, and his face was almost completely white under the shade of the indigo sky.

She crumbled. "I'm sorry, Peeta," she whispered, and the tears had flown down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey, hey," he murmured. She didn't resist, when he pulled her into his arms, and wrapped them around her tightly. He was shaking, too.

"I'm okay. I'm used to it. I've faced worse," he said.

"What _the_ _fuck_ is this, Everdeen?"

A loud voice rifled through the air behind them, cutting through Katniss like a knife.

She lifted her head from Peeta's shoulder, and both of them looked to the source of the voice. It was Cato. He had somehow stepped off the streetcar, and had followed them.

"What are you doing here?" she cried. Hadn't these people tortured them enough tonight? "Go away, Cato."

Cato ignored that. "So this is who you're fucking?" he demanded. He stumbled a little in his steps while he moved toward them. It was clear that he was drunk. Strangely, the streetcar still appeared to be sitting behind Cato, like it was waiting for his return. "You wouldn't fuck me, but you'd give your pussy to this stinkin' mutt?"

His words seemed to break the last straw that held her together. She couldn't take this abuse toward them anymore. The muscles in Peeta's arms turned tight as steel, his hands curled into fists as his eyes fastened on Cato.

"You call him a mutt? Look at yourself!" she yelled, "You're right, I would never fuck you, Cato. I will never, ever let you touch me. You're a hulking, worthless bully who needs to hurt a little girl to feel powerful. You're a _loser!"_

Cato's face twisted with rage. Her words seemed to have made him furious.

"You know what? I changed my mind. I don't want you anyways." He spat onto the ground. "I'm a loser, am I? You worthless _cunt."_

The breath seemed to be knocked out of her lungs. It was the first time someone called her something so awful.

But she wasn't prepared, when Peeta separated himself from her, and made his way toward Cato with slow, deliberate steps.

"What did you say?" he asked, in a low voice.

Cato was taken aback for a moment. Then, his torso heaved with a rasping chuckle, and more laughter followed, until he started howling.

"This is rich," he managed to get out, between his endless stream of amusement. "This is really rich. You want to fight _me?" _he wiped at his eyes, "You must've lost your mind."

"Say sorry to her." Katniss was astonished at the words that left Peeta in a menacing growl. "Or I will make you regret it."

"Wow, this just keeps getting better and better," Cato wheezed out. He attempted to straighten himself, as Peeta approached even more. "Hey, mutt. You don't threaten me. Just because you did that, I'm going to do it again. Hey, Katniss," he glowered at her, "I'm not sorry, you c-"

Katniss gave a scream, when Peeta's fist flew out, and punched Cato directly across the mouth.

Cato yelped, and stumbled back until he landed flatly on his ass. He was clutching onto his mouth and jaw, his broad eyes staring up at Peeta in utter shock.

"You hit me!" he garbled out.

Katniss darted over the Peeta's side, and stared down at Cato with horror. Did Peeta just realize what he had done?

_No. No. _No.

If Cato was the one who attacked Peeta first, there might be redemption for Peeta, because the law stated that nobody could touch another's slave without their permission. But Peeta had hit Cato first.

No matter what led up to it, this would count as an unprovoked attack on his part. And it was considered rebellion for a slave to voluntarily hit a Capitol citizen – especially to hit someone like Cato, who had an influential family background. The sentence for it would be execution.

Cato seemed to realize that, at the same moment she did. His hand flew away from his mouth, revealing the bruise that began to spread underneath. He pushed himself off the ground, and staggered around until he found his footing again.

"I will have this mutt killed," he screamed, his face puce, spit flying out of his mouth. "I won't even dirty my hands by hitting him back, because I want to fucking make sure the court will kill him. I mean it, Everdeen. He will die for that, I'll see to it if it's the last thing I do." He jabbed a finger at her, "Don't you _dare_ let him run away. If you do, I will throw you in jail and you will _rot there!"_

He stumbled away, his legs lurching with large, wobbling and uneven steps.

The white-hot panic that crashed through Katniss nearly toppled her. She grabbed Peeta by the shoulders, and spun him around to face her.

"Peeta, why did you do that?" she keened in despair.

His breathing was ragged. "He… he called you a you-know-what!" he bit back, "I just… I was so mad. I couldn't take it anymore."

It felt as if acid had scalded her chest. Her own breaths tumbled from her in uneven blocks. "Peeta, you don't understand. What you just d-did means a death sentence for you." Her hands trembled with quavers she couldn't control.

His head drooped. He gave a weak laugh. "Well, small price to pay for the satisfaction of hitting that asshole."

"Stop it," she cried. A choked sound heaved from her chest. "I won't be able to stop it, if they come for you." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "If you stay with me, they will kill you for sure. I will not let that happen."

Her mouth turned down into a thin, determined line. As he stared at her, he seemed to understand what she wanted to say, before the words even left her mouth. He shook his head vehemently.

"Katniss, I'm not leaving you," he ground out. His eyes were shining.

"If you're with me, they will find you." The pain that laced her words was palpable. "They will come to my house and search every corner. The only way I can keep you safe is to have you go somewhere where they can't find you. Someplace that's not here."

He was shaking his head forcefully. "What about _you?"_ he looked into her face. "You will get in trouble for doing it. Cato said so."

"Listen, Peeta. I will be fine. I will be _fine. _Cato was bluffing about that part. He can't do anything to me. Do you really think he can? I mean, I live here in the damn Capitol and my family is just as powerful as his." she forced herself to say. It was a lie, but Peeta needed to believe it. He had to. "I will not let them take you away. I…" her voice broke. She struggled to catch her breath, but it was nearly impossible, because of the agony and despair that lacerated through her insides. "I'm sorry. I promised to protect you. I failed."

"Katniss," he implored. The next thing she knew, his arms were around her, almost crushing her to his chest. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head.

"Please, I don't want to leave you." His voice was teary, muffled against her hair. "I can't."

She couldn't hold back her whimper, as she clung onto him back with a vice-like grip, like he was her lifeline. She refused to acknowledge that this was probably one of the last embraces they would share.

Even as the throes of pain gripped her, she felt the pressure of their limited time squeezing her chest. Every second that passed felt like a drop of gold melted away.

But even in her desperation, her mind had already formed a vague plan – if she were arrested later and forced to give up his information, she would provide false information to the Peacekeepers stationed at the city, to buy a little extra bit of time for him.

"Peeta," with an enormous effort, she pulled herself back enough so she could face him again. Her hands trembled as they traced across his face, her thumb smoothing over the bridge of his nose and the skin beneath his swollen, bloodshot eyes.

Their gazes locked, neither one willing to be the one to look away first. A hollow, almost unbearable pain was carved into her heart, at the realization those deep-set blue eyes would haunt her for the days to come.

Her eyes burned with unshed tears; and she couldn't imagine that just a few hours ago, they were at the theatre, and she was so happy.

"You need to run," she whispered hoarsely. "Now. Tonight."


	6. Chapter 6

I'm still alive! Sorry for the wait. School has been a drag - I just want to go to sleep everyday after my daytime job, let alone work on that! But I've been working on this chapter in bits and pieces over the past few weeks, and I really hope it came together.

Thank you again for your continued support of the story. It really means the world to me. I couldn't have found a more amazing fandom to participate in; I continue to be blown away by how supportive it is. I don't think I can express my appreciation enough.

Before I delve into the chapter, I should put a trigger warning here, just in case: There is heavier violence in this chapter, including an attempted rape. I had a hard time with it, but unfortunately they're necessary for the plot, to depict this twisted world they live in. (or is it so different from some parts of our own world?) I do try to keep it 'realistic' without being over-the-top graphic, though!

Okay then. Here we go...

* * *

Katniss stared up at the ceiling with vacant, red-rimmed eyes.

"_Miss Everdeen. If you don't tell us the whereabouts of Peeta Mellark, you will held in custody here until you do, unfortunately. This can take all night, and even the next day. I hope you understand that. Is it really worth it, for this mere _slave_ of yours?" _

That was what the interrogator had asked her. And judging by the digital clock that hung on the wall in her cell, that was three hours ago. Because right now, it was almost two o'clock in the morning.

Katniss rubbed a palm over her eyes. She was in a spacious cell, and the air smelled of disinfectant, almost like the hospital. A single large bed occupied the space. To her relief, it was actually quite comfortable.

The night light bar was built into the wall next to where she laid, and despite its glare hurting her eyes, she didn't have the strength to get up and look for how to turn it off.

Fatigue was seeping through her bones, but her brain was still far too wired for her to fall unconscious. Memories from earlier during the night warred through her mind.

After parting with Peeta tonight - she couldn't bear to let her thoughts linger there yet - she hadn't originally planned to go home. She had intended to hide somewhere dark and obscure in the city; a place where she couldn't be found so easily.

But she couldn't stand letting her family worry about her all night, and she dragged herself to a payphone to call them. She remembered the horror that permeated their voices, when she told them what had happened - _and_ what she had done.

But before her family could give her a piece of their minds, she heard a rush of noises in the background. Her mother told her frantically that the Peacekeepers were knocking on their door, and her father had gone to greet them.

At that moment, her heart had fallen into the hollow of her stomach.

"_I'm gonna hang up, okay Katniss?"_ her mother had whispered, _"Don't come home."_

But before the call disconnected, her father's growl echoed in the background.

"_Hey, that's my _daughter! _Prim, come here. Come here." _A shuffling noise ensued. _"Don't you push her like that, sir. I'd appreciate it if you treat us with more respect. We are law-abiding citizens. I work for the government."_

"_Well, your other daughter just broke the law," _a stranger's voice came forth. _"Big time. She let her slave voluntarily hit a citizen, and a member of the Jackson family at that. I don't care you work for the government, because guess what? You're hard-pressed to go against the Jacksons." _A silence had followed. Even though it only stretched on for a few seconds; it was a few seconds that crushed Katniss' lungs with the weight of fear. _"So I suggest you tell us where she and her slave is, _sir, _or you won't be met with _any _courtesy at all." _

At that, Katniss had made up her mind to go home and turn herself in. She couldn't let her family suffer from the consequences of her actions. This was hers to bear alone.

When she had gotten off the night cab that took her home, she realized the Peacekeepers' patrol cars were still there, their sirens blaring, casting piercing streaks of red, blue and silver across her lawn. Some neighbors had even stepped out to watch the commotion.

Her head was throbbing and her cheeks stung, while she made the familiar trek to her own house. There was a Peacekeeper positioned at her door, and her stomach bottomed out, seeing his white uniform shine in the night - in front of a place that was supposed to be her comfort and haven.

When he saw her approach, he faltered for a second, then marched toward her.

He brought her back into the living room. The moment she stepped in, she realized there were three Peacekeepers surrounding her family, who were seated on the couch. Her father was livid, and her mother and Prim were pale and stricken. Their heads whipped around at her arrival.

"_Katniss."_ Prim's whisper had cut her.

"_I'm the one you're looking for,"_ she told the Peacekeepers coolly. She didn't know how she managed to keep her voice steady.

The Peacekeepers then proceeded to inform her that they were here, because six people had testified against her tonight - including the streetcar driver, who was considered an impartial bystander - claiming to witness the assault by her slave against a Capitol citizen.

"_Peeta Mellark," _one of them had asked her impassively, his eyes boring holes into hers from behind his visor. _"You had him. Where is he?"_

"_I don't know," _she told him. She knew he wouldn't buy it. _"I have no clue."_

And it didn't end up sitting well with them. And after several failed attempts to demand the information out of her, they asked her to take a trip with them down to the police station for the night.

Her mother nearly had a meltdown then; she practically yelled at her daughter to tell them where Peeta was.

Katniss maintained her lack of knowledge, even as her knees threatened to buckle under the weight of their menacing stares. She couldn't tell them anything right now, not even some made up bullshit. Because even any false information she gave might lead them to zero in on him, since he hadn't had time to get far away enough - the feasible escape routes from the Capitol were so limited, and actually intersected each other at the beginning.

If she were to make a "confession" - and she was sure the time for that would come soon - she needed to at least make it sound believable.

When they put cuffs around her wrists, Prim was crying. She wanted to tell Prim it was alright; there was nothing to worry about. Her mother was trembling, and her father was paler than Katniss had ever seen him. In that instance, she almost wavered at the regret that twinged in her heart.

But they had already come this far. She would not let them get to Peeta; she would not let their rottenness win.

"_Cooperate with them, Katniss, please,"_ her mother begged her. _"Just tell them. We'll get you another slave. One you'll like even more than Peeta."_

Katniss' lips thinned as she remembered that now, in the confines of her cell. To her mother, Peeta was still a toy, a throwaway thing that was entirely replaceable. They didn't see the humanity in him - his amazing talents, the way he could create and mold words, and the gentle and affectionate nature he maintained, even through every single thing he had endured.

Katniss' eyes misted over, when she realized that aside from Prim, no one had ever made her as happy as he did.

She wondered which point he had made it to right now. A slow-burning fear stirred cruelly in her - what if the Peacekeepers had gone to look for him already, even without waiting for her information?

If only there was some way for her know that he was still alive and well - across the waters.

Because hours ago, he had set sail across the river, which stretched from the Capitol to the waters surrounding District Ten.

It was an obscure route - but at the same time, the terrain was far more treacherous.

* * *

_- Five Hours Ago - _

Peeta's lips seared hers.

He kissed her desperately, drinking her in like a man going into the desert who wouldn't see water again for days. She kissed him back with equal sorrow, her hands clawing at his back while their lips mashed and scraped at each other's.

Tides of the water lapped gently against the boat behind them. This boat wasn't large, but it was in good shape and the best they could find at the moment, sitting idly by the edge of the waters that partly enveloped the Capitol Memorial Park.

Given the cold weather, the Park was deserted and almost eerily quiet in its vastness; the echoes of leaves shuffling in the wind from every direction sounded haunted, and made her want to shiver.

"Peeta," she panted out, when they broke apart. His forehead was rested against hers, and their breath mingled together, making circles of fog around them. "Do you remember everything we went over? Tell me."

"Yeah." He sounded pained. "When I'm on the water, steer straight until I get past the train bridge, then turn right and keep going."

"Yes." She nodded breathlessly. "And again, if my map here is correct -"

Here, she touched the pocket on his jacket, where her smart device and nearly all the money she had with her tonight lied. As an extra precaution, she had turned off the device's connection to the world, so it couldn't be tracked unless he turned it back on. He could still view the map, though. He had vehemently refused to take them in the beginning, but she wouldn't hear of his refusal. Did he think she'd let him run off, with nothing but the clothes off his back?

"- District Ten is about sixty or so miles from here, so it should take you about five to six hours to go there. When you're there, get food and some different clothing. According to what the device said, there are a lot of boats going between Ten and Eleven, so if you can get on one, you can probably go to Eleven by tomorrow. I'm almost certain they won't look for you there." _Almost. _"In the meanwhile, I'll make the Peacekeepers think you left in a different direction by train."

Peeta closed his eyes, like he was tired and ready to go to sleep. But the anguished frown that knitted his eyebrows together said otherwise.

"Katniss, I don't understand. Why do you - why would you - do all this for me?"

She inhaled sharply, because it seemed so preposterous to her that he had to ask. When her mouth winced, she realized she was dangerously close to tears.

"Peeta, your life is in danger, because you stood up for me," she replied, "You knew what that was going to cost you, but you stood up for my honor anyways. Well, I'm not going to let them take you away. I won't let it happen. This is so _unfair."_ Her voice wobbled at that. "They can't win, okay?"

He looked at her for a long moment. "But I'm putting you in trouble too." He hedged, "Are you mad at me, Katniss?"

"Mad at you?" she echoed emptily. When he looked at her in an almost beseeching manner, she shook her head weakly. "Peeta… I feel a lot of things right now about you. But mad is not one of them."

"Katniss," he said raucously, "I'm furious at me. I was so stupid. I brought this onto us."

"Stupid for doing what? Punching Cato when he called me a cunt?" she gave an incredulous laugh at that. "Peeta, Cato deserves a thousand times worse than what you did to him. You know what he does to his own slave. If I'm mad about anything, it's this whole fucking system." She waved her arms around wildly, gesturing at nothing and everything. "None of it makes sense. None of it is fair. It brought this onto us, not _you."_

He exhaled. The sound was starkly akin to a hollow echo of defeat. "I… just wish. I wish we can leave together. D'you - ah, damn it. Do you want to come with me, Katniss?"

He asked the question so suddenly, the outburst made her heart stutter. She wasn't sure if she heard him right.

"W-what?"

A shuddering breath made his shoulders ripple, and his hand enclosed around her wrist. "I can't stand it, just leaving and not knowing what's gonna happen to you. You said you won't get in trouble for this. Do you mean it, Katniss? I can't live with myself if anything happens to you. I just wish you can leave with me."

She wasn't sure what expression was on her face at that moment, but it was enough to send him gripping at his hair. A hint of agony flicked across his features.

"I know it sounds really fucking dumb. The last thing I want to do is to put you in danger. Forget I asked. I'm just worried about you, Katniss. I want you to be where I am able to see you and protect you, like you're protecting me."

"Peeta… I don't -"

"I'm just not ready to let you go." He finished with a rush. Then, he winced and closed his eyes for a brief moment, before reopening them. When she looked into them, she saw that they were hazy, almost unfocused. They haven't lost their bloodshot color all night. "Sorry, I just had to say it. You are - you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

For some reason, she found that hard to believe. "Not the best thing," she said sadly. "You didn't meet me because of your own free will."

"No, but I don't care about that. I fell in - I mean, I grew to like you a lot, and that's from my own free will. You treated me so well. But not just that - I feel so connected to you. I care about you, and I realize how much I want to make you happy. No one but you made me feel that way."

Her heart stalled. Not only at his declaration that he felt connected to and cared about her, but also at the place where he said _fell in,_ before he cut himself short. Was he almost about to say 'fell in love'?

No, it couldn't be. They haven't had the time to develop that yet. Right?

She didn't even understand what love was supposed to be, despite almost everyone around her being obsessed with it. The territory was as strange to her, as it was daunting.

Did it mean a longing for someone, a pull of passion? Did it mean caring for someone, to the point you'd take risks to save them? Did it mean being so content and happy with them, that just the thought of spending time with them drains the tension from your shoulders?

Because at least she knew those were the things she felt, when it came to Peeta.

But she couldn't understand why he would want to fall in love with her, even if he managed to overlook her status. She didn't have his gentle sense of humor or wicked way with words, or a pair of artistic hands. Besides her ability with a bow, what other remarkable things were there about her? Being sullen and stubborn? He, on the other hand, was a guy that was almost too good to be true.

But the way he looked at her quieted the doubts in her mind. She didn't know what to say to him; words failed her again this time.

So instead, she drew him toward her again, and her mouth met his once more. The feverish rotations of her lips against his took place of the words she wanted to come forth. Both of their breath were a little stale, whether from the fear or the toll the night had taken on them, she didn't know. But she savored the kiss, trying to commit the feel of his soft mouth molding to hers to memory.

It wasn't that she didn't want to leave with him. She might have considered it, or might have even done it in a heartbeat, if not for the fact she would be leaving Prim and her parents behind. Besides her family, she didn't give a shit about what she had in the Capitol; it was a beautiful, but really cold cage. She wanted to explore the world outside with him; she wanted her life to mean something.

But as impulsive as her decisions tended to be sometimes, she would never break her family's hearts like that. She wasn't that selfish.

When they broke apart again - with a lingering reluctance on both of their parts - Katniss knew it was time for them to move along. There was only so many hours during the night for Peeta to get to District Ten; she didn't want him to be still on the waters by the time the sunlight breaks over the horizon.

She thought of the flashlight on the device she'd given him. She prayed that it could work to some extent to guide him along the path, if he found himself lost in the darkness.

Gently, she placed her hands on his arms, and stared at him, willing him not to break eye contact with her.

"Get home safely, Peeta." Her throat strained with the effort to pronounce every syllable. "And I know you can't write me… but if there's some way you can contact me… just let me _know…"_ she wavered then. She thought she could be strong, but her voice betrayed her then, cracking pathetically. "Just let me know."

By the time he drew her to him again, crushing her to his chest, tears had flown down her cheeks and she was gasping with the effort to choke back her pitiful cries. She hated being this weak; it was selfish to make Peeta feel more distressed than he already was, but she couldn't stop. She was powerless against the pain.

"I will, Katniss. I will do everything in my power to reach out to you again," he said gutturally in her ear. His chest shuddered against hers. "I don't want to make you worry. This isn't goodbye, you know."

"It's - it's not g-goodbye," she stuttered out.

Later, when Peeta stepped onto the boat, it rocked and tilted in the water, sending gentle ripples across the silky blackened surface. When he got settled in, he picked up the paddles that rested on the boat's sides. His eyes found their way back to her.

She stared back at him. Her eyes were dry now, but every inch of her bones felt like it could shatter into dust.

Maybe she should wave or something, but her heart was frozen and her limbs were numb, like they were asleep and rendered useless. Maybe the blood in her body had stopped flowing.

When he pushed the paddles' blades against the tides, the boat creaked with his effort, before it started to slide away from the shore. She kept her eyes on him, watching his shoulders rise and lower with each stroke he delivered. He had his eyes fixed on her the entire time, too - she could feel the weight of his gaze anchoring her, even when he was far away enough that she couldn't make out his features anymore.

His hat was covering his hair, and she almost wished it wouldn't, because she wanted to look at his unruly curls one more time.

When she looked at the river that seemed to stretch on endlessly behind him, her heart rate sped up. The waters melted into the darkness, beyond the colorful lights that dotted the city at night. Like a shadowy tunnel that waited to swallow anything drifting into it.

Even the moonlight couldn't seem to reach it.

* * *

_- Now - _

The sound of a banging door startled Katniss awake. She blinked blurrily, before shifting into a sitting position. She didn't even know she had fallen asleep.

How long was she out for? Was time was it now?

She tried to glance surreptitiously at where she knew the digital clock hang. To her shock, a blank screen stared back at her - its image was wiped clean.

What the _fuck?_

But she couldn't dwell on it. Her cell's door was open, and a Peacekeeper was standing in front of it, staring impassively at her. She swallowed, hoping her expression didn't betray her nerves.

"The Detective will see you now," he announced.

Five minutes later, Katniss was escorted into an investigation room. She was promptly seated at the large metal table in the centre.

The detective was already there - he sat in the chair at the opposite end of the table, facing her. His expression was almost as cheerful as the black suit and the white tie that he donned.

From her peripheral vision, she saw that a large mirror also hung on the wall to her left side, her reflection wavering in its shiny dark surface.

But she couldn't see a clock or timer anywhere, to her chagrin. Did the fuckers knowingly take away her ability to judge the time?

"I'm hoping to make this a quick and painless process, Ms. Everdeen," the detective announced, bypassing any pleasantries.

She said nothing in return. The singular light source in the room hung above them, but at least the shine wasn't so piercing that it hurt her eyes.

"Okay." He nodded, as if she had given him an answer. He glanced down at his papers, his fingers clasped together in front of him. Katniss realized that the Peacekeeper who escorted her here was still present, having moved himself to a corner of the room. Her lips thinned with a flare of apprehension and annoyance.

"Where were you last night," he began, "After you got off the streetcar that stopped at the corner of Cove and Fawn Street?"

"Well, detective," she forced herself to keep her tone civil, "I think Cato Jackson can give you a better answer about that. He followed me and Peeta from the streetcar, and proceeded to harass us and shout profanities at me."

The detective's expression didn't budge. "Mr. Jackson said you might say that," he said coolly. "All of the witnesses testified that you and your slave said words of defiance against the Capitol, before stepping off the car, and that's what prompted Mr. Jackson to go after you. Your slave shouted, and I quote, _'I want to kill all of you'_ to the people on the vehicle."

Katniss' mouth nearly dropped open. She couldn't speak for a moment, because the accusation was so absurd, it was almost surreal. For a few agonizing seconds, the rage closed her throat too harshly to allow her voice to escape.

"Do you really believe that?" she finally managed, her strangled words sounding funny. "Does it not occur to you that those 'witnesses' are lying? They're all Cato's friends! Of course they'll say anything to -"

The detective held up a hand, stopping her short. "Mr. Jackson said you're very indulgent of your slave," he proceeded to say, as if he hadn't heard her. "You even dressed him in Capitol clothing. It's understandable he got the idea that he can act in whichever way he wants, due to your encouragement."

Katniss felt the wind being knocked from her lungs.

Maybe dressing Peeta up was a terrible idea. She just thought it was brilliant at the moment, because if she had brandished him around the city in a typical slave outfit, she was also expected to _treat_ him like a slave, not as an equal whom she was so affectionate with.

"I'm not indulgent of him," she forced out.

The detective's expression finally shifted at that - he simply arched an eyebrow. She swallowed hard, and fought the urge to glare at him or the table. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out another thought that hounded her.

"Wait, you told me that Cato and his friends said Peeta shouted at them on the car. Well, what about the driver? He was there too. Surely he can tell you it's a lie."

She hated the desperate hope that tinged her voice. If the driver had any decency, maybe he would have told the truth of what he saw.

"Enough, Ms. Everdeen. You're not the one asking questions here," the detective berated her. "But for your information," he cleared his throat, "The information that the driver provided did align with what the other witnesses said." He looked almost smug, when he informed her.

Her blood went cold. Of course. Cato would have bought the driver off.

She couldn't believe that was the courteous man who had wished her and Peeta good evening last night, when they got on the streetcar. He had looked like such a decent person.

"Now," the detective continued, oblivious to the way she struggled to contain her shivers, "You know what we're interested in. You've had a night to think over what's right and wrong. Let's not waste your, or my time here. We want to know where Peeta Mellark is."

She lowered her gaze. _'You've had a night', _the detective said. Night. So that should mean it was at least the morning now, right?

"Well, Ms. Everdeen?" he prompted, "It will be smart for you to tell us, so you can save us the trouble - and save yourself. We will find out one way or another, I guarantee you. If you don't tell me… well, we will have to make you," he stated it, almost like he was informing her of the weather.

"So what?" Katniss said bitterly, glancing up at him from beneath the slant of her brows, "Will you torture me?"

He sighed. "Of course, we don't want it to come to that. You're a citizen, and your family does contribute to the government. But if you refuse to cooperate with us, more than you already have, you're further defying the law. Defiance leads to severe punishment, do you understand?"

Her fists clenched reflexively on her lap. "Yes," she whispered.

"And your family will be affected too. Think of your father, Katniss. Your poor, heartbroken mother. Your sweet little sister -"

"Stop," she cried. The detective leaned back, as if he was satisfied that he had finally gotten a real emotional response from her. "Where's my family?" she demanded.

He smiled at her. "Oh, you'll see them, Ms. Everdeen. But unfortunately, they won't be able to visit you until Peeta Mellark is found."

Her eyes widened a fraction, before she forced her expression into a more neutral one. No. They wouldn't do anything to them, right? Her family had absolutely nothing to do with this.

"Well, I know how Peeta left," she muttered. She had been preparing for this moment. But it was still bizarre, hearing the words echo from her mouth, with the detective staring at her and no place left to hide. "But whether he can be found is another story."

He leaned slightly forward across the table. "Is that so? Well," he crowed, "Now you're on the right track, Ms. Everdeen."

* * *

"Get up. We're moving you to another cell tonight."

Light suddenly flooded the space that Katniss occupied, piercing through her closed eyelids. She gave a whimper, and shielded her eyes with her forearm.

"What?" she whispered. Her tongue still felt woollen from the container of mashed potatoes and spicy ham they'd given her earlier for dinner.

"The team leader ordered that we move you to another cell," the Peacekeeper announced once more by the door. He sounded like the same one who came to collect her this morning.

"Why?" she protested. Even though the answer already formed in the back of her mind.

"The detective can tell you about why."

When she left the comfort of her bed and shuffled toward the door, the Peacekeeper actually reached out and grasped her by the arm. Alarmed, she struggled away from him.

"Don't touch me!" she blurted out, "What are you doing?"

"You're moving too slow. Just hurry up. The detective wants to see you. He hasn't got all day."

When she was brought into the familiar investigation room, the equally familiar face of the detective greeted her; this time, it looked a lot stonier.

"Ms. Everdeen, let me ask you something," he said, by way of greeting. "Do you think this system is a_ joke?_ Do you think you can make a fool of it?"

"N-no," she stammered.

"You said Peeta Mellark left on the night train that went to District Four. Well, that train has been searched. Nothing was found, not even his fingerprint. Can you explain that to me?"

Her throat worked reflexively. "Well, maybe you haven't looked hard enough."

"Don't you fucking bullshit me," he snapped. She reeled back at the anger that suddenly filtered into his tone. "I may have been nice to you, Ms. Everdeen. But even I have my limits. I have a _job _to do here. Look, I'll give you one more chance," he stated. It was apparent that his patience was gossamer thin. "Where did you let Peeta Mellark _go?"_

She hid her fists behind her back, in an attempt to hide their shaking. She knew it was futile.

"District Four," she insisted.

The detective scoffed, and slammed his palms against the table.

"Okay. Fine then, it's obvious you haven't learned your lesson," he said, "I won't be sending you to the confession room. Yet. But you have about a day, before you're put in there. In the meantime, I'm putting you in another cell. One that's not so comfortable as your current one."

* * *

Katniss gawked at the condition of the cell visible to her from behind the bars, and the people - nearly all men, except one woman - that lounged inside it.

There was a single toilet in the cell, and it looked as if more waste had gathered on top of or around it than inside. The walls looked like they were rusting over; coppery stains seeped through almost every crack along the paint. Even from a distance away, the smell of unwashed bodies and human waste hit her. She felt like she wanted to retch.

The Peacekeeper jammed his key into the lock, and the prisoners inside looked up at the sound. When the lock gave way, the Peacekeeper grabbed onto one of the handles and pulled the bars aside; they screeched deafeningly with the movement. The facility didn't even use any technology to maintain these types of cells.

"In you go," the Peacekeeper nodded at her, before sparing a glance toward the prisoners. "By the way, most of these are from the Districts. Since you love them, it's great you'll be spending some time with your friends!" he joked, followed by a loud cackle.

Katniss' eyes blurred with tears, as she was ushered into the cell. The smell almost overpowered her, and she clutched her arms around her middle, while the Peacekeeper snapped the bars shut behind her again.

She didn't know what she had expected, but she truly didn't expect this.

"What have we got here?" a husky, weathered voice piped up by the corner of the room. She looked up fearfully, to see a tall, dark-skinned man sitting on top of one of the beds there, his elbow propped up by his bent knee. "A Capitol girl?"

Katniss looked down at the outfit she was wearing, wondering if it were that obvious. She hadn't changed out of the clothing she wore since the previous night. It did look so out of place, a million miles away from the tattered clothes that hang on these people's bodies.

"You're right, Chaff," another man interjected. If she thought the voice of the man who first spoke - Chaff - was throaty, this new one was a lot more gravelly. Like its vocal cords had been damaged by years of alcohol, or cigarettes.

Her head swivelled around, to see a black-haired, paunchy man hunched against the wall, his gray eyes searching her warily.

"It's been a while since I've seen a pretty girl," Chaff said with a laugh, his teeth gleaming with the movement.

Katniss cringed. Oh no. She had no protection here, she was like a virtual prey to them -

"You're scaring the poor girl, Chaff," the other man said again.

"Sorry, Haymitch. Couldn't resist myself," Chaff said with a shrug, still grinning at her.

The man named Haymitch snorted. "Don't worry, sweetheart. He's harmless," he directed at her.

Chaff scowled. "Speak for yourself, you son of a bitch," he retorted, but good-naturedly, "You're fucking _harmless."_

A loud snort echoed from the other side of the room. It was from the only other woman occupying the room.

"Men," she shook her head. Her voice was just as hoarse as the men's, and thin wisps of hair flapped about her face. "Always thinking with your pricks instead of your brain. What, you gonna fawn over her?" her eyes roved over Katniss in unbridled contempt. "This little bitch spent her whole life in luxury while we were starving!"

"Oh, please. She can't be having too good of a life since she ended up in here with us," Haymitch said.

"What did you do, girl?" Chaff asked her.

"It's… kind of a long story," she hedged. She was still standing awkwardly by the bars. Perhaps she should try to make herself comfortable, but she was still too frightened to get closer to them, especially that woman who didn't seem to like her very much. At least the assault of the smell on her nostrils was dimming now; she didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

"We can hear it," Chaff said, "We got time. Right, old chap?" he looked to his left. Katniss saw he was addressing what looked like a decrepit figure lying on a cot in the middle of the cell. The old man looked like he was sleeping; his eyes were closed, and his frail chest was rising and falling, strands of his white hair trembling with the movements.

"We don't know his name." Chaff told her, "Not that he can tell us. The Capitol cut off his tongue twenty years ago."

"Shit," she choked out.

She stepped closer, finally, her feet shifting carefully across the cracked concrete floor. Tentatively, she took a seat by the edge of the bed where Chaff was situated. Everyone's eyes were on her, drilling holes into her.

"Well, I am in here, because I helped my slave escape." She said. The room got silent then, to the point that one could almost hear a pin drop. Katniss swallowed, and glanced at her balled up fists. She was no good at telling stories. "He was going to get a death sentence, if he stayed here."

"What did he do?" the woman asked.

Katniss couldn't help a sad smile from flitting across her face, when she thought about last night.

"He punched a Capitol citizen. No, a deplorable asshole."

Haymitch whistled, and leaned back. Chaff was shaking his head in amazement. "Damn. Your boy had some nerves!"

"I know." Katniss said, her throat closing. "That's one of the reasons I love him."

The words escaped her, before she even thought about them. Her eyes widened, and her hands clasped around her mouth in regret.

Why did she say that? She had never even said that to _him,_ and she just uttered it, to a roomful of strangers.

"Whoa. Whoa," Haymitch held up a hand, "So you're telling me you're in jail, slumming it up with us… you're protecting this boy this much, all because you're in love with him?"

"That's some high quality romance novel shit right there," Chaff cracked up.

"No." Katniss glared at them. "Well, even if I didn't love him, I'd want to do what's _right," _she said stubbornly, "I won't be a part of this rottenness."

The smile stilled on Chaff's face. Haymitch blinked slowly, and rubbed a palm over his eyes.

"Well, you don't hear that everyday," he said.

The room went silent for a moment. Katniss was so tense, her thumbs literally started to fidget in her lap as she stared at her hands.

"I want to hear more about this boy," the woman said suddenly, breaking the strange silence. "Tell me more. What is he like?"

By the time two-thirty rolled around in the morning, almost everyone was fast asleep. Katniss kept drifting in and out of consciousness, because nightmares interspersed between her blank moments.

She dreamed of Peeta's boat catching flames on the river, and the wooden frames sinking into the water while the fire melted away his skin. She dreamed of the Peacekeepers grabbing Prim's hands, and pulling her sister away from her, a gun trained at Prim's temple.

When she woke up once again, a cold sweat had broken over her forehead, from the vision of a bullet travelling through Peeta. She decided to stay awake for the rest of the night. It was much easier for her to bear.

But the seconds seemed to tick by, agonizingly slowly. The sound of wheezing and snores filled her ears, coupled by distant echoes of bars periodically opening and banging shut from down the corridor. She sighed helplessly. For the lack of anything better to do, she closed her eyes again. She just refused to let herself fall asleep again.

She was caught between the wake of sleep and consciousness, her arms dangling limply from the bed, when the sound of a bomb detonating crashed through the building, jostling her eardrums and insides.

She scrambled to sit up, quelling a scream in her throat. Haymitch jostled immediately into consciousness from the bed next to her, his arm swinging around wildly.

"What the fuck!" Chaff's yell cut across their confusion.

Suddenly, lights flooded the corridor outside of their cell, illuminating the entire place harshly.

"What the _fuck_ is going on?" the woman cried out, having woken up too. Only the old man was still asleep.

The next thing they knew, another thunderous crash careened through the building; the impact of it made the walls shake and dirt fly over their heads. Katniss grasped onto the meager blanket around her, and flung it off her legs quickly.

"Fuck me," Haymitch growled, "It's a bomb!"

The entire row of cells seemed to come to life; an ocean of noises poured into the lighted corridor, some distraught screams, and a lot of shouting and swearing. Haymitch had sprang to his feet; he darted to the bars that held them in and looked outside.

"Fuck," he spat.

"What's going on?" Katniss demanded, scrambling to her feet and running forward to join Haymitch in looking outside. She couldn't see much, aside from the frantic people in the cell on the opposite end doing the same thing as her.

"I don't know," Haymitch snarled, "But if they keep us in here much longer, we might very well die. Motherfuckers!" he shook at the unyielding bars violently.

"Well, I don't want to die in this shithole," Chaff's voice joined them, as his hulking form appeared beside Haymitch. He grabbed a hold of the bars, and pushed his face outside of them, as much as the space between the metal rods allowed. "Will someone open these fucking bars?" he yelled, "Help!"

No one answered Chaff's pleas for a few minutes, while he kept yelling. Haymitch decided to join him too, along with the prisoners in the cell opposite theirs. Their voices grew into a cacophonous combination, bouncing off of the walls and the floor.

Then, another explosion ricocheted through the building, and this time, it made the walls shake even more violently than before. A piece of the cement cracked away from the ceiling, and proceeded to crash onto the floor, shattering into pieces.

Katniss looked around frantically. She wondered if this was going to be her end, in this smelly, inhumane hole with these people. She was unable to come to terms with this.

_Mom, dad,_ she thought pleadingly. _Prim, I love you. I'm so sorry. And Peeta - _

"Hey man!" she suddenly heard Chaff yell. His hands were stretched out of the bars, and there was a burgeoning hope in his voice. "Fuck, help us here."

"I'm coming man." A stranger's voice echoed from outside the cell. Katniss whipped her head around, to see a redheaded man dashing toward them. He was a Peacekeeper; at least, half of his uniform appeared to be on. A key jingled in his hand.

At that moment, her knees nearly gave out in relief.

That Peacekeeper jammed the key into their lock, while her, Haymitch and Chaff looked on tersely. Even though it only took a few seconds for the lock to turn, it felt like a small infinity to Katniss. Finally, it gave way, and all of them worked together to shove the bars aside.

Chaff, Haymitch and Katniss stumbled into the corridor, followed by the others. The people in the other cells rattled their bars, clamoring for the Peacekeeper's help.

"What the fuck is going on, man?" Chaff shouted.

"It's a bomb! Someone set up a chain of them downtown and around this area," the redheaded man volleyed back, while he dashed away to free the other people at the same time. "Run to the left, then follow the stairway to reach the exit!"

"Thank you, my man," Chaff called out, "This will not be forgotten!"

The Peacekeeper grunted in acknowledgement, before jerking the other set of bars he was working on. The prisoners spilled out, some grasping onto his shoulders to gasp out their thanks before sprinting away.

Katniss knew she should run away; Haymitch was beckoning all of them. But before she could think about what she was doing, she ran up to the Peacekeeper, and placed her hands on his arms. He looked at her.

"Thank you, you kind person," she whispered. She didn't know why she felt compelled to say this to him. But she had met so few kind people in this world lately, she couldn't even comprehend this act on his part. The other Peacekeepers must have run for their lives by now, because she couldn't see a shadow of them. This guy was the only one who stayed behind to save them.

He nodded at her. "Go now," he said, and touched her hand fleetingly, "Be safe."

She nodded back furiously, before turning around to join the others in running.

But she had lost sight of her previous companions. None of the faces around her looked familiar. More people poured out of their cells as they were freed; she was jostled this way and that as she hurdled forward. Her head was spinning, and the smell of sweat and bodies disoriented her.

The prisoners burst through the stairway door, before charging for the staircase. Katniss had to grasp onto the rail to make sure that she didn't get knocked down as she ran. Someone rammed into her elbow painfully, and she gritted her teeth and tried to bear it. They ran down about three sets of stairs, before reaching a side door with a panic bar across it and the sign "EMERGENCY EXIT" displayed across its middle.

When the people ahead of her shoved it open, a piercing alarm started to resonate. Nobody paid any mind to it, however, as they started to spill out of the exit.

When Katniss finally reached the open door, her body nearly couldn't hold against the shove of the people from behind her. She was squashed against someone's back, struggling to catch her breath.

She didn't even register being released into the cool night air, until about three seconds in. Once the crowd flocked out of the building, it finally became dispersed as the prisoners scattered in every direction, the oppressive weight of the bodies against her suddenly letting up. She stumbled and gasped, desperate to catch her footing.

When she looked up, the sight that unfolded in front of her stole her breath once more.

A few hundred feet away from the facility, houses and buildings stood in various forms of damage; some had crumbled to the ground, lying in a myriad of concrete and metal ruins. Piteous echoes of wails and screams filled the night. Aside from the thinning horde, a few lingering people were visible to her in the distance, running down the street toward a destination unknown to her. Parents were grasping onto their children, and most were still in their pajamas and sleeping robes.

In the dead of the night, the fires danced and twitched on top of the ruins everywhere.

Katniss' hands trembled. She had no idea where to run, because she didn't know this area at all. What if there were more bomb traps around, and she ran straight into one?

Suddenly, the sound of a lone, ear-splitting gunshot pealed through the chaos, not more than forty feet from where she was standing. She nearly jumped out of her skin.

When she pivoted around to see what was going on, her dread over how to escape was immediately forgotten. It was replaced by a much sharper tug of fear.

A Peacekeeper had his gun trained on a retreating woman, who looked like a prisoner. She looked like she had been shot in the shoulder by him; a heart-wrenching agony tore at her face as she clutched at it.

"Don't you run now, mutt." He advanced toward her, "I won't let you."

But the injured woman tried to, anyways. Katniss' eyes nearly bugged out, as the Peacekeeper shot at her again - this time straight in the thigh. She screamed, and fell onto the ground in an unceremonious tangle of limbs.

Katniss glanced around. She was torn between running, or helping this woman. _Just run, you fucking idiot_, her mind screamed at her. _You can't help her. Everyone else has run._

But the moment she saw the Peacekeeper lift his gun again, and direct it between the sobbing woman's eyes, something inside of her seemed to rupture.

"Stop!" she yelled, _"stop it!"_

The Peacekeeper paused. His shoulders were heaving, but he didn't deliver the bullet into the woman. Instead, he turned around, and fixed his glare directly on her, like he was seeing her for the first time.

Katniss took a step back. Her legs were strung as tightly as a pair of springs, from the tension thrumming through them.

Her heart stopped, when he lowered his arm with the pistol, and advanced toward _her _instead.

_No. He can't. He won't dare - _

"I'm from the Capitol!" she told him, "You can't touch me -"

"I don't give a fuck," he came to a stop in front of her. The next thing she knew, he reached out, and grasped onto a fistful of her hair. The shock warred through her, followed by the pain tingling in her scalp from his unrelenting grip.

"I've had a very bad night," he slurred, "Since you stopped me from delivering a justifiable punishment, why don't you make up for it and help me feel better, you little bitch?"

She didn't understand what he meant, until he pushed her head down with a force that was enough to make her fall on her knees; the jagged pebbles scraped at her skin even through her pants.

He put the gun back into the hoop on his belt, and kept his vicious grasp of her hair, while his now freed hand worked fervently at his belt buckle. She gritted her teeth against the burn that razored across her scalp.

"Suck my fucking cock," he told her, his guttural tone dripping with lust. "Be a good girl now. And I won't kill you."

Breathing heavily through her nose, Katniss gave a watery glance toward the pistol that was strapped to his waist. Terror welled up in her chest.

"Hey, what are you doing? _Get off of her!"_

Before Katniss could process the source of the voice, a pair of arms had hooked around the Peacekeeper's neck, taking him by surprise. He emitted a yell, but the awful noise was strangled in his throat. His fingers loosened around her hair.

She hurled his hand off of her head, and crawled backwards until there was a safe distance between them. Her frightened eyes finally found who had the Peacekeeper in a headlock.

Chaff.

He had come back for her.

His teeth were bared with the effort, because the Peacekeeper was no small man, either. Both men's faces were bursting into shades of puce, while they shoved at and struggled with each other. Katniss noticed the uniformed man's hand had disappeared into his belt, and it was then that the senses came fully snapping into her.

"NO!" she screamed, "Chaff! _He's got a gun!"_

Chaff grunted, and his fist made a sharp blow to the Peacekeeper's head, making it snap jerkily to the side. While the man was reeling from the blow, Chaff tried to seize the opportunity to seize the gun from his grip.

But the other man howled and refused to let go. While Chaff grappled for the weapon, the clumsy, desperate set of their movements accidentally activated its trigger.

The ensuing bang nearly turned Katniss' eardrums inside out.

Perhaps it wasn't accidental on the Peacekeeper's part.

Her world was swaying and tilting, and she didn't exactly see what happened next. But Chaff must have stumbled back, because it was then that the Peacekeeper gained the momentum, and swivelled around to train the gun directly against his stomach.

"_Chaff!"_

The next bang sounded more muffled than the one that just took place. Chaff's eyes went wide as saucers, and he hunched over against the Peacekeeper's shoulder. His blood splattered against the dirt behind him.

"_NO!"_

She hurtled forward, just as the uniformed man stepped away, leaving Chaff to collapse to his knees, then onto his back.

But when she tried to reach Chaff, the Peacekeeper stepped forward and kicked her directly in the chest, sending her careening backward.

She coughed wetly, clutching at the place that bore the brunt of the impact. When she looked up through her watering eyes, she saw the Peacekeeper looming over her.

His teeth were bared with his snarl. He had his gun pointed right at her forehead.

Katniss lifted up her hands. She was shivering violently, and her gaze was fixated on the pistol. Somewhere in the distance, the crumbling of bricks in the fire echoed.

"Please, I'll do whatever you want," she begged, followed by a soft sob. She kept her eyes trained on his face, above the gun point.

Slowly, slowly, she sat up to rest on her haunches, to not set him off with any sudden movements.

"I'll do anything. Just don't hurt me."

His ferocious grimace slackened, replaced by a burgeoning leer. He huffed, and lowered his gun, though he still kept a firm hold on it.

"Well then, what are you waiting for? Do it already!" he barked. "I don't have all day."

The hammering of her heart became a savage rhythm in her ears. She swallowed, but there was no moisture in her desert dry throat. Carefully, she lifted her hands toward his partially undone buckle.

He swatted them away impatiently. "I can do this part," he growled, and reached down to undo it himself.

Katniss inhaled sharply. Her eyes drifted toward his gun. And her throat seized, when she saw the hold of his fingers appear to slacken around its handle while he struggled to pull his dick out.

It was now or never. If Chaff couldn't manage to secure this gun, she might at least be able to dislodge it from him.

She would die before she surrendered to this scum lowlife.

Her face twisted fleetingly with feral determination.

Before he could make sense of her intentions, she had already flung her elbow up, ramming it into his hand with the entire weight of her body thrown into it, a choked cry bursting from her lips.

He let out a surprised howl, and the gun slid from his grasp, flying across the dirt to land a distance away from them. Her elbow throbbed from the impact.

"You - _bitch -"_

He lifted his hand, and brought it down to strike her. She half-anticipated the movement and tried to duck to the side, but his palm still connected with the right side of her head. For a split second, pain exploded across her scalp; the impact reverberated through her and made her teeth rattle.

"I don't need a gun, I'll fucking kill you with my bare hands," he snarled. He let his foot fly into her middle, the force sending her sprawling across the dirt. She gasped and wheezed as she lay there, clutching at her stomach.

She needed to get to that gun.

When he approached her again - no doubt to deliver more punishment on her - the fear-induced rush of adrenaline numbed the pain that flamed through her body. His boot aimed for her face, and the front of it knocked into her jawline.

But despite the pain that tilted her world, her arms shot out and anchored around his calf with a death grip. He yelped, and tried to escape her grasp by kicking at her with his heel. She yanked at his leg instead, and the momentum actually made him lose his balance, sending him to the ground with a thunderous crash.

Showers of dust and dirt flurried around them, while she released him and scrambled to get to her own feet. He was stunned and sputtering, screaming curses at her, his arms and legs flailing as he struggled to right himself again.

But she had already pushed herself off off the dirt. Spots swam in her vision as she darted toward where the weapon lied, and every inch of her body flamed in protest of the pain, but the desperation gave her the strength to bear it. The muscles in her legs burned as she collapsed besides the gun.

"No!_" _she heard him bellow after her.

She looked up, just in time to see him tumbling toward her - or his weapon - like a vulture who just lost his favorite piece of meat.

"You bitch!" he screamed at her, "Don't you dare touch that, don't you _dare -"_

She grappled at the gun with jelly-like fingers. _C'mon, _cooperate _with me, _she cursed at her trembling digits.

When she managed to hold it up, its weight nearly dragged her hands down. For an object which looked so light when people on screen used it, how it actually felt in her hands shocked her.

But she had no more time to consider how it felt, when the Peacekeeper scurried to close the last bit of distance between them. She lifted the pistol with both hands and pointed it at him, her forefinger hooking onto what she guessed was the trigger. Her hands were sweating profusely, threatening to slip from her wobbling grasp.

"Don't come, or I - I'll shoot!"

His expression shifted. And perhaps the sight of the gun turned on him jarred him, because he slowed in his steps. "Careful now. You don't want to play with that, little girl," he said through gritted teeth.

"I'm not," she said in a tremulous voice. Her temple was throbbing with the rhythm of the blood pounding in her ears. When he started to advance toward her, she tightened her hold on the pistol frantically. "No, _stay."_

He sneered. It was clear he could see the trepidation on her face.

"Look at you, a pitiful little thing threatening me. Look, you don't even know how to hold the gun properly. The game is over. Now, give it back," he ordered, "And I won't hurt you. Too badly."

Katniss choked back a whimper. His promise merely convinced her that the pistol was the only safety barrier between her and an imminent, excruciating death by his hand.

She didn't come this far - and have someone sacrifice their life trying to save hers - just to give up now, even if her psyche quivered at the thought of killing another man.

The Peacekeeper scowled deeply, when he saw she wasn't letting go. "I said give it back to me," he said in an icy, livid tone that slid toward dangerous.

It felt as if a vacuum had sucked all of the heat from this space, despite the fires that dotted the landscape around them.

"_No."_ When she trained the point of the gun on his face, then his chest, his eyes widened in disbelief. "You killed Chaff. I kill _you!"_

"You won't dare," he breathed out, "I serve the _President!"_ when she lifted her head defiantly, the edge of tone became tinged with hysteria. He hurled himself forward, and his hand stretched out toward her. "I said give it back, you dumb bitch, or I swear to God I will -"

At the sight of him jostling toward her, her body reacted before her mind even processed it. Her forefinger pressed down on the trigger, as if it acted of its own accord.

The blast that proceeded split her ears - she screamed along with the Peacekeeper's drowned-out yell. The pistol seemed to rebound in her hand, its force crushing her finger and travelling through her palm with an impact that reached inside and rattled her bones.

She dropped the gun hastily, staring at it in utter shock. But then, a choked, gurgling wheeze made her head snap up. The Peacekeeper was clutching at the space above his ribs, where redness started to blossom across the dirt on his once white uniform.

"You…" his eyes were impossibly wide, and he clawed at his wound, "No…"

Her teeth couldn't stop chattering. She had just done that. She.

When the man stumbled and fell to his knees, her insides went cold. Her jaw clenched and unclenched with her effort to swallow back the bile in her throat.

Seeing him crumble to the ground, an odd, nearly surreal sensation suddenly washed over her, because the realization hit her then - for all his imposing uniform, his status, or the fear he induced in people - his only true power lied in this gun. Without it, he was nothing but a pathetic mass of flesh.

"You- you're a _scum," _she choked out, his shrivelled form blurring in her vision. Then, she remembered the other man lying a few feet away from them, unmoving. "Chaff," she called out, "Oh god. _Chaff!"_

She looked to him frantically. He was lying in the dirt, the dust gently layering over his still form. Blood glistened across his torn shirt and skin. His eyes were open and vacant, and his arms splayed across the ground at an awkward angle, his fingers curled.

She crawled over to him. Falling into a heap beside his torso, she reached out blindly to grasp onto his shirt. When she realized the material felt warm and wet, she let go immediately, her stomach lurching dangerously. She brought her trembling hand up to her eyes.

At the sight of the unmistakable red smeared across her palm, she let out a long wail.

_No, no._

"Chaff," she cried. It was no use. He was long lost to the world.

She sobbed, and scrubbed her hand on her dirty pants furiously, because the feel of his blood on it threatened to choke her alive.

_Please. Please get it off._

The efforts proved to be futile. Even as she chafed her skin raw, the feel still didn't come off of her hand - warm and slippery and acidic.

Finally, she lurched away from him, and her fingers dug into the dirt beside her knees, while she emptied what little content remained in her stomach.

She crawled away from her sickness, and once again planted herself beside Chaff. Her vision swam precariously, and she knew she couldn't fight the urge to succumb to the darkness much longer.

When a bout of light-headedness seized her, she collapsed alongside him, before she was even aware of being on the ground.

But even the mercy of unconsciousness seemed to evade her. When her senses snapped back into her after a few minutes, she opened her eyes painfully. Her hooded gaze roamed over their deserted surroundings, seeing nothing but the aftermath of destructions.

When she saw the dying Peacekeeper, whose limbs were still twitching as he struggled to hang onto his last breath, she choked back a pitiful sound, and tried to shut out the fact that she was his killer.

When she squeezed her eyes shut, she tried to escape everything taking place around her. To blot out the lingering feel of the gun and the blood, she tried to think of a happy place, a place where she felt safe and warm and at peace.

Almost instantly, her thoughts turned toward blue eyes, and a pair of strong arms holding her.

When she burrowed her face into the crook of her arm and imagined harder - ignoring the metallic smell of her clothes and skin - she could somehow feel his large presence right here, like it was protecting her. She nearly registered the soft sensation of his lips against her aching temple, and his front shifting against her back - the position they liked to assume when they fell asleep.

And it seemed so real in her muddled state for a moment, she almost wanted to smile. For a split second, she couldn't remember where she was. She thought she was on Peeta's bed again, having climbed into it after a nightmare.

But when she twisted her body around and opened her eyes again, nothing but the empty, smoky sky filled her searching stare. The fog cleared from her brain.

Her chest caved in then; the pang of loss struck her without warning. Tears traced down her temples, biting into her bruised skin, while she struggled to hold against the weight of the regret that threatened to crush her.


End file.
